


Uninvited

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood, Blow Jobs, Drunkenness, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Horror, M/M, Masturbation, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 01:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Arthur moves to Ealdor, he does not expect A) his house to be mercilessly cold, B) a neighbour that aggressively makes tea every morning, or C) the secret that’s hidden away in the loft.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uninvited

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [altocello](http://altocello.livejournal.com/) for the quick and thorough beta, and [greeneyes_fan](http://greeneyes-fan.livejournal.com/) for feeling out the overall creepiness. You guys are brilliant!

“I have a bad feeling about this neighbourhood, Arthur.”

“You always have bad feelings, Morgana.”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Shut up and help unload, you lazy arse.”

“This is the last box,” he said, setting it down in the living room.

“Finally. I’ve got work to do before my weekend really starts.”

“Right. I’ll ring you when I’ve got the phone working.”

Morgana was never one for being awkward—that was more Arthur’s expertise—so she didn’t shift nervously on the balls of her feet when she went to hug him. She pulled him close and gave him an affectionate squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. I’m sure one day Father will—“

“Don’t worry about it, Morgana. He’s left me enough money and…and I have my own savings to live off of. I’ll be fine.”

“Still, this whole situation is ridiculous. Just because—“

“I’ll call you sometime this week, okay?” Arthur stepped away from her as politely as possible. He really did not want to have this discussion.

She knew when and when not to push. “Okay. Hang in there, alright?”

“Honestly, Morgana, you act as if my cat died.”

“You hate cats.”

“You know what I mean. Just leave it alone, yeah?”

Morgana nodded, gave Arthur’s arm one last squeeze, and headed out. Arthur immediately sank onto his sofa with a sigh.

Being fired by his own father had certainly been rough. Having to move out of his beautiful penthouse suite had been hard as well. But enduring everyone’s pitying looks—except Uther’s of course—and sometimes even their raised eyebrows, was the worst. It hurt more than his pride; it hurt something much deeper inside of him that he couldn’t exactly name.

So Arthur closed his eyes and let himself have a moment to rest. He tried to clear his mind of everything that had happened in the past few weeks and just focus on the smell of his new home, on the sound of the walls creaking with age.

But somehow Arthur felt he wasn’t alone. His eyelids grew heavy as he fought to keep them open. The hair on the back of his neck raised and his fingertips tingled restlessly, his body feeling as if someone had entered the room without his hearing them.

Then, when his body felt so heavy it was like a crushing weight on his shoulders, as if he was sinking deep into the cushions and would be consumed by them, he snapped opened his eyes.

He was alone. The only sound in the house was that of his laboured breathing, and the ridiculousness of everything made him laugh, a sharp sound that cut through the thin silence and echoed off the walls. It had seemed so innocent in its nervousness, but warped into something sinister as it reached his ears.

Arthur shook off the weird feeling and stood, then abruptly shivered. It was late summer and the days were getting hotter, but the wood floors in the house made everything a bit more chilly. He walked to the thermostat and saw the inside temperature was about 15°C. He punched the arrow key until it read 24° and immediately the house thrummed with the sound of the heating unit kicking in.

The first room Arthur wanted to unpack was his bedroom. All the boxes marked “Bed” were already there and the mattress was leaning against the wall. The movers would come by and set up the bed frame the next day.

A knight statuette stopped him in his tracks. It had been left on the first landing, forgotten by the previous owners. He’d thought nothing of it on the first viewing, had assumed the tenant was still moving out bits and things, but its stubborn existence there now was odd.

It was eerie. The helmet that cased the hollow knight’s head unnerved Arthur the most. It seemed as if eyes watched from behind, following him as he went up the stairs. Arthur had to glance over his shoulder a couple times to make sure the statuette had, in fact, not moved, and immediately felt silly when he reached the top.

 

A sound in the bathroom caught his attention. Something was dripping. He stepped into the small room and flicked the light on.

It was the tub. Upon closer inspection, the whole spout looked wrong. It was tilted about 30° counter-clockwise but wouldn’t have been noticeable unless one were standing right inside looking at it head on. He’d have to get it fixed if he didn’t want a leak to run up his water bill.

With a sigh, Arthur left the bathroom and went to his bedroom. It was at the end of the hall, the only room with two windows. It wasn’t the smallest or the largest, but a compromise of the two. Arthur intended to use the smallest as a study but couldn’t pin down why he didn’t want to sleep in the master bedroom. Something about the room at the end just called to him.

The boxes were mostly left open because he hadn’t wanted to bother with taping them shut. Only two of them, the largest ones, contained his clothes, the other dozen held his numerous books and little whatnots he’d collected over his twenty-six years. He put his clothes away in the closet first, then set up his laptop.

He took the mattress that leaned against the wall, laid it out on the floor, and collapsed onto it. By that time it had gotten dark and he was tired from the long day spent moving. He pulled off his sweaty clothes and threw a thin blanket over himself, too tired to bother with a pillow.

Arthur slept fitfully the first night and was torn between the decision to get up or stay in bed a while longer in the morning. On the one hand, he should start his day and finish unpacking. A shower would clear his mind and he needed to get out and find a job. On the other hand, it really was rather cold and a few more minutes curled up under the blanket wouldn’t hurt.

As a compromise he wrapped the blanket over his shoulders and got up. He tiptoed downstairs—a habit from his childhood—and went to the thermometer. It read 10°C.

“Shit.” The programmed temperature still said 25°, and Arthur could hear the heat moving through the vents, but the inside temp had lowered five degrees from last night. Arthur figured since the house hadn’t been occupied for a while, it was a bit draughty.

Suddenly the idea of a getting anywhere near water was distasteful. Instead he went back upstairs, put on some joggers and a long sleeve slim-fit shirt and decided to get moving to warm himself up.

He worked long into the morning. When he stopped, it was because he thought he heard something from upstairs. He walked to the bottom of the steps, trying to ignore the creepy statuette and perked his ears up. It sounded like someone was typing. Not slow, numb-fingered typing, but a quick, steady rhythm of keystrokes on a laptop.

Convinced someone had gotten into his house while he was in the other room, he dashed up the stairs. He paused a moment to determine which room it was coming from—the one he was going to set up as his study. He listened for only a few moments, just to make certain he wasn’t imagining it, then burst in the room, ready to punch the intruder in the face.

It was empty. The sound of clicking on a keyboard had stopped and there was no laptop in sight. The sun shone in through the blinds in an insultingly cheerful way.

Frowning, Arthur closed the door softly and walked back down the stairs as if in a daze. He was positive he’d heard _something_. There was no way he had just dreamed it up. He pinched himself to make sure, just in case.

Because of his confused daze, he didn’t see the man standing by the kitchen right away. He’d nearly come upon him when he finally looked up and then he yelped in surprise.

The man, pale and with a mess of raven locks above a friendly face, simply raised an eyebrow in contemplation, as if deciding whether or not he should apologise for frightening Arthur.

“Who the hell are you?” Arthur demanded to know. Now that a real intruder had been found he was more sure of himself.

The man tilted his head to the side, as if Arthur spoke a different language, and only responded after giving Arthur a good look up and down. Arthur took a moment to do the same and was even more annoyed at how attractive the intruder was.

“Merlin. Who’re you?” He spoke with such contempt and superiority that Arthur immediately disliked him, as if trespassing in his home wasn’t enough of a reason.

Arthur didn’t feel he had to answer any of this man’s—Merlin’s—questions, even if said man was quickly making his way up Arthur’s to-do list. “What are you doing in my house?”

Merlin’s face didn’t change for a few seconds as he seemed to think on his answer. Finally he said, “I was friends with the bloke that lived here before. I hadn’t realised he’d moved out already.”

Arthur scowled. “Yeah, well, he has. So if you could please get out.” He pointed towards the door. When Merlin didn’t move, he added, “Or I’ll call the police.”

But Merlin, the incorrigible arse, just chuckled and crossed his arms as he leaned against the edge of the wall. “Come on. We’re neighbours now. Let’s at least get to know each other on better terms. Tell me your name.”

There was clearly no swaying the man, and Arthur had to admit, he _did_ want a chance to properly get to know him—and possibly do more than that—but still...Merlin had just let himself into Arthur’s house and Arthur hadn’t even been there two days!

“If I tell you, will you leave?” Arthur bargained.

“Maybe. Probably not. It’s polite to offer your guests some tea at least.”

Arthur nearly exploded. “You broke into my house and you expect me to offer you tea?”

“I didn’t break in. I’ve got a key.”

“Right. Give it to me.” Arthur held out his hand.

Merlin didn’t move. “Tell me your name.”

“It’s Arthur. Now give it to me.”

“You’re not all that great at making friends are you, Arthur?” Merlin was smirking now and Arthur was another witty remark away from punching this smug, attractive bastard in the face.

“Not when they just invite themselves into my home and demand I make them tea, I don’t!”

Merlin clicked his tongue and shook his head in mock disappointment. “I told you. That was a misunderstanding. I thought the bloke was still here. Now I’m just taking advantage of the opportunity to meet my new neighbour. I don’t see what you’re so upset about. And if you want, _I’ll_ make the tea. Or get you a glass of something stronger. You look like you could use a drink.”

Arthur breathed deeply and swallowed his anger. “Would you please just leave?” he asked more calmly.

The friendly smile slowly disappeared from Merlin’s face as he pursed his lips with thought. Arthur shivered in the cold air as he waited and tried not to stare too obviously at Merlin’s mouth.

Finally, Merlin nodded and said, “Alright. Maybe some other time.”

His voice was sad, and the bright, cheerful air had gone from his features as he turned to go. Arthur felt suddenly guilty. This man’s friend had moved away, possibly leaving him with no one else. It must have hurt to find that out. And then, when he’d tried to make a new friend, Arthur had to go and yell at him. Arthur tried to tell himself he was justified in his actions, that anyone would have done the same in his situation, but he couldn’t help feeling sorry for putting such a lifeless expression on the man’s handsome face.

And Arthur wasn’t antisocial. He liked making friends, and it wasn’t a bad idea to make one after moving to a new neighbourhood. He hadn’t wanted a new relationship to start like _this_ , but if he shunned Merlin now, he might not have another opportunity.

Merlin was reaching out to open the door when Arthur stopped him. “Wait.” Merlin looked over his shoulder with wide eyes and Arthur sighed. “I guess...if you help me unpack, _and_ if you make the tea...we could...get to know each other or something.”

Arthur tried to ignore how fast his heart raced when Merlin smiled.

“Great.” Merlin practically bounced back over to Arthur. “What’s first?”

“I haven’t eaten anything yet this morning so, let’s start with tea. Cups are in the cupboard beside the fridge,” Arthur said, and turned to an open box beside him. He froze at the frown line in Merlin’s brow. “Something wrong?”

Merlin bit his bottom lip before answering. “It’s just…you’ve got it all wrong. That’s not how it goes at all.”

“How what goes?”

“You’re hopeless,” he said in mock exasperation. “Look, I’ll show you.”

He led Arthur into the kitchen and tutted again at the display. Half the boxes were empty and the contents put away, but the other half sat open and waiting. Merlin went right to the cupboard above the tap.

“No, no, no,” he said disapprovingly. “Plates? Really, Arthur? No. Plates go here.” He opened the cupboard above the cooker, where Arthur had put sanitary towels. “Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve functioned all your life.”

Arthur laughed at the ridiculousness of the scene. “What the hell are you on about?”

“This kitchen. It’s all wrong. Cups go above the tap, plates go above the cooker, cutlery goes in _this_ drawer, pots go in _that_ cupboard, pans in here, and bowls on the shelf above plates.”

There was no way Arthur remembered all that, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. “Where did you say cups go?”

Merlin sighed with his whole body and stepped closer to Arthur. He put both hands heavily on Arthur’s shoulders and looked seriously into his eyes. Arthur ignored his own rapidly beating heart again.

“Never fear, Arthur. I will teach you.”

***

Merlin made organising the kitchen fun, and Arthur did learn a lot about proper placement (“See how easy it is to just grab a plate and put food onto it now?”), and the methods to Merlin’s madness eventually became somewhat clear. After the afternoon spent unpacking the kitchen, a break for tea, and another hour doing the study, the movers arrived to set up the final pieces of large furniture and Merlin excused himself. Arthur heard him greet the men downstairs on his way out and they grunted a reply.

When the furniture was all put together and they left, Arthur finished what he and Merlin had started in the study. He had a simple writing desk, a couple of bookcases, and a recliner. The room was small and had one window, along with a closet which Arthur used as a file cabinet. It was by far the easiest room to set up.

That night, Merlin came round again and they installed the telly in the living room. Most of the house was unpacked by now, and anything that wasn’t could be shoved upstairs into the unused room for next weekend or the one after that. They stayed up until just after midnight, then Arthur fell asleep as some zombie film was ending.

He woke up nearly four hours later at 3:31. His body was sore from sleeping on the sofa and he rubbed his neck as he sat up. Merlin had laid a blanket over him, which he was grateful for, but now it sounded like the man was upstairs taking a shower, of all things.

Arthur knuckled his eyes and stretched, then cast the blanket aside and stood. The dark knight at the bottom of the stairs caught his eye, and he felt a sickening sensation of dread in the pit of his stomach as he passed. The face mask hung above an abysmal opening, so dark and seemingly endless that it made Arthur hurry up the stairs, his whole back tingling with inexplicable fear. Arthur told himself he was being ridiculous, that it was just an inanimate object, but still found it hard not to look over his shoulder to ensure the knight hadn’t moved.

Once he reached the top of the stair, he furrowed his brow. Even now, he could clearly hear the shower running, but there was no light under the door. Was Merlin showering in the dark?

Dread crept into his body and mind again as he raised his hand to knock twice.

“Merlin?” No answer.

He held his breath, turned the handle slowly, and flicked the switch as he stepped in. His frown deepened when he saw the shower. The sliding glass door was open, there was no sign of any condensation or steam, and the dripping tub spout seemed to mock him. Everything was perfectly dry, as it should be.

Arthur shook his head and walked out, turning the light off behind him. The momentary brightness had taken away his acquired night vision, and the corridor seemed black as pitch as he felt his way back to his bedroom.

Arthur yawned and scratched his head as he softly pushed open the door to his room. His tired brain was probably imagining things. That’s what he got for falling asleep on a horror film. He’d wake up tomorrow morning and tell Merlin about this and they’d laugh.

As Arthur slid beneath the duvet and closed his eyes, he tried to convince himself he truly believed that.

But the morning brought no relief. When he woke up again—properly, at 9:00—he was dripping in sweat and his heart was racing. He had the strange sort of feeling one might get after having heard a gunshot, an urge to flee or cower in fear. Arthur sat up slowly, peeling the duvet from his clammy skin, and brushed damp hair out of his eyes. It was a bit chilly, but his sweaty condition made him want to jump out of bed and into the shower right away.

Arthur stretched his arms, cracked his neck, and slowly got to his feet. He removed his damp clothing as he padded to the loo. Passing beneath the entrance door to the loft, he heard a soft thud and saw dust falling from the crack in the ceiling.

_What the fuck?_

Arthur was about to set the matter aside for after his shower when he heard another thud, this one coming from downstairs. Arthur nearly tripped down the steps and almost toppled over the statuette to find the source of the noise.

It was Merlin.

Merlin’s eyes widened as they travelled down Arthur’s body and Arthur realised belatedly he was still in just his sweat-soaked pants, the damp fabric leaving little to the imagination. Blushing, he cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably.

Merlin’s eyes snapped back up to Arthur’s face. “Morning,” he said with his usual grin. “Tea?” He held out a cup of steaming tea and Arthur took it, brought it to his lips, then shook his head and set it down on the worktop.

“Were you in my loft just now?” he asked.

Merlin’s brow furrowed. “The loft?”

“Yes, Merlin, the loft. I heard a noise and saw dust coming from it.”

“No,” Merlin replied, as if Arthur might be slow. “And if I _had_ been up there, I certainly wouldn’t have been able to get up and down the stairs that quickly.” He tilted his head curiously. “Could this noise have been the kettle? Did you sleep alright?”

Arthur scratched his head as he had hours ago. “I’m not sure. I think I might’ve had a nightmare. And now you’re here and…” Merlin nodded sympathetically and Arthur hated to say his next words. “Look, I know you were mates with the bloke before and everything—and you've been great to me as well—but I don’t know how I feel about you just letting yourself in and making tea for me in the mornings like this. It’s not exactly something I’m used to.”

Arthur also found it especially awkward to be almost naked next to an incredibly attractive man whose orientation and motives he wasn’t aware of yet.

“Of course,” Merlin agreed. “You’re right. You don’t know me, and I certainly don’t know you. This house is like a second home to me so...I guess it’s just hard for me to give up old habits. I won’t bother you again.” Merlin looked genuinely hurt, though thankfully not on the brink of tears, and it pained Arthur to have to make him leave.

“That’s not to say you can’t come over,” Arthur said just as Merlin was reaching the door. “Just let me know in advance is all.”

Merlin perked up a bit at that and nodded once before turning to leave. The door opened and shut as soon as Arthur turned.

Arthur sat at the table and finished his tea. Ealdor was quiet, unlike the busy city he’d left to come here. Well, “left” wasn’t quite the right word. “Forced to leave” was more like it. Still, Arthur didn’t hate it as much as he thought he would. If the other neighbours were as friendly as Merlin, he could come to like the place quite a bit actually.

He put his cup away and went back upstairs. After only a moment’s hesitation in front of the loo, he pulled the string to the loft, and carefully let down the ladder. There was a draught, and a cloud of dust made Arthur cough.

The ladder looked old and it creaked, but proved strong enough to hold Arthur’s weight. If the rest of the house was cold, it was absolutely freezing up here, which Arthur hadn’t expected at all. Being late summer, it should have been hotter up here than anywhere else, and yet it was just the opposite. Arthur still hadn’t dressed. He shivered.

Pulling the string to turn on the single light, Arthur saw it wasn’t a full loft that he could walk around in, and it had wooden crossbeams and rafters. Letting his gaze travel farther back, he noticed there was one rather mysterious box in a particularly dusty corner. Arthur had to duck his head as he walked over to inspect.

A loud bang suddenly sounded from below, shaking what felt like the entire house. Arthur’s heart jumped into his throat and sweat broke out on his forehead again. His mouth went dry and his stomach clenched with apprehension. He turned slowly on his heels.

“Hello?” he called down the ladder. “Merlin?”

It couldn’t have been Merlin, though. Arthur would have heard the front door open, and while Merlin was odd, Arthur didn’t think he’d do something so aggressive like bang his fist against the wall hard enough to make the entire structure quake.

Arthur held his breath and listened for the faintest sound, anything that would alert him to a foreign presence.

All he heard was the blood rushing through his ears.

Swallowing, Arthur turned around and headed back to the mysterious box that must have been left behind by the previous owner. The air was particularly cold on his bare skin now, and he didn’t want to stay in the loft a second longer than he had to. He knelt in front of the box and reached forward to pick it up.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

Arthur scrambled to his feet. If he’d thought he imagined it the first time, there was no denying it now. There was someone in his house, someone banging on his walls. An intruder had somehow managed to get _inside his home_.

He didn’t fancy meeting anyone, let alone a trespasser, in just his trunks. But dammit, Arthur was scared, like he’d never been in his life, and Pendragons didn’t get scared. They just didn’t. He’d face whatever this was head on and squash it before it could get the better of him again.

“Who’s there?” he demanded of the walls. He was halfway down the ladder when he heard a sliding noise behind him.

Just as he turned his head to look, the box stopped moving.

Arthur shook his head. There was no way that box had moved on its own. There was no way showers turned themselves on at three in the morning. There was _no fucking way_ that Arthur Pendragon was losing his mind.

Determined, Arthur stalked back up the ladder and toward the damned box. It was just an ordinary cardboard box; nothing should have been special about it. And yet every step he took resulted in louder banging that seemed to come from within the walls themselves.

THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD

When Arthur finally got his hands on it and held tight to keep it from slipping out of his grasp, there was a scream.

_GET OUT!_

Terrified as Arthur was, he kept going. He clutched the box to his chest and ran from the loft. The screaming seemed to drag on— _STOP_ —like a multitude of voices clamouring in his skull. As he set the box on the floor and folded the ladder back up to secure the entrance, he was dripping with sweat once again. The screaming stopped abruptly when the loft door slammed shut, and the dangling string seemed to mock him.

Arthur took the box to the master bedroom where all the others were stacked. The room was like a maze of boxes actually. He set it on top of a relatively low pile that came up to his navel and stared at it.

It wasn’t taped shut or even properly sealed; the cardboard flaps were simply folded underneath each other. Arthur bit his lip as he caught his breath and contemplated opening it. In the end, he decided he’d think on it while he showered.

After a thorough inspection for intruders both down- and upstairs, Arthur finally trudged his way to the loo. He felt very unhinged, like something was lurking around in the shadows of what he believed to be a safe place. Naked and vulnerable beneath the spray, he thought of Morgana’s foreboding words.

He did not have a good feeling about this place.

Showering and changing into warm clothes added a sense of normalcy to the strange morning. He checked the temperature again and was only mildly surprised to see it had plummeted overnight. He adjusted it, then returned to the master bedroom and its maze of unopened boxes.

Arthur didn’t open it right away. He placed tentative hands on the old cardboard, felt the chill of the loft atmosphere seep into his warm palms. The box seemed to give off a forbidden aura. It didn’t want Arthur to open it and bring its contents to light.

Almost immediately pinning the idea as ridiculous, Arthur unfolded the flaps and revealed the dust-flecked items beneath. He coughed as the cloud rose to his nose, then turned his attention to the box’s secrets.

There was a shirt on top, a regular black, collared button-down; but it wasn’t just any shirt: It was _Merlin’s_ shirt, the shirt he’d been wearing yesterday and again this morning. Arthur would know. He’d been almost too attentive to Merlin’s appearance over the past couple days.

Underneath the shirt was the pair of grey jeans Merlin had also been wearing. But that wasn’t what caught Arthur’s eye most. What did, were the two photos at the bottom that showed Merlin wearing these same clothes with drinks in his hand, smiling with cheeks coloured from alcohol.

In one, he was looking at someone behind the camera and if Arthur let his imagination wander, it was as if Merlin was looking right at him. In the other, Merlin was laughing at someone to the right of him, and his easy smile deepened the dimples in his face.

 

The photos took Arthur’s breath away. He had thought Merlin attractive before, but in these photos he looked downright delectable. His skin wasn’t as pale, but a rosy pink. His eyes sparkled with life that hadn’t seem to be there when he’d spoken with Arthur previously.

Arthur ran a thumb over where Merlin’s shirt opened up in a V at the neck. His brain easily supplied the image of slowly popping the buttons off, kissing his way down a lean chest, nipping teasingly at the skin stretched over hipbones before taking all of Merlin in his mouth and sucking hard…

Arthur tried weakly to will the scene away but it was so clear in his mind it was like it was happening. His palms got sweaty, his heart raced, and his cock began to thicken with desire. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own, as if they were being pulled in with magnetic force to slip beneath the hem of his pants. Not taking his eyes off the photos, Arthur slid his lower garments down, let them pool around his ankles and took himself in hand.

He placed the photos on top of the box and set his feet shoulder-width apart. He closed his eyes and pictured Merlin again, the smooth contours of his neck, the red flush of his cheeks, the way his eyes seemed to stare out at him from his two dimensional rendition.

He thought of Merlin biting his lip in contemplation, and changed the tilt of the eyebrows just slightly so that it looked as though he was holding back a moan instead. He thought of Merlin leaning against the wall and smirking at him the first time they met, but instead of getting upset, in this fantasy Arthur walked up and snogged the hell out of him and Merlin grabbed his arse to pull him closer and moaned “Arthur” and “yes” and “fuck me.”

 _God, I am so perverted,_ Arthur thought with a chuckle. He shook his head in amused disbelief and only briefly thought about stopping, that it was so wrong, so _weird_ to get off on photos of one’s new neighbour. But Merlin wasn’t around, and these lovely photographs were, and it certainly couldn’t hurt…

Arthur’s breath came in short gasps and his hand moved to reach blindly out and pick up the black shirt from the box. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. It smelled like the loft but if Arthur tried hard enough he could make out the scent used to wash it.

The heating, for whatever reason, decided to start working then and Arthur discovered he was standing over a vent in the floor. The warm air rushed up between his thighs, tendrils of heat dancing over the tight sack of his balls and perineum, and began to nose its way into the crease of his arse.

It was as if the rush of air had given a little nudge, and without a second thought, he chucked the shirt, and stuck his middle finger in his mouth, sucking a bit before working it into his puckered hole. He steadied himself by pressing his forehead against the wall. A moan escaped him then, high in the back of his throat, and somehow transformed from “mmm” to “Merlin.”

He heard it then, a whisper from the vent beneath him—“ _Arthur_ ”—and he added a second finger, scissored them as he continued to fist his cock. The draught of air was like magic now, crawling up his torso and ghosting across his skin like fingers, caressing his chest and back.

It was all too much. Arthur opened his eyes to anchor himself, sure he was losing his mind if he thought a draught of _air_ was moulding itself to his body as he wanked. So it almost didn’t surprise him to see Merlin’s eyes staring at him from the photo that had started everything.

Nothing else about the photo had changed, at least nothing that Arthur could spot at first. Then it seemed to jump out at him at once. Merlin’s loose grip on the neck of the bottle had tightened, so that his knuckles were white as they squeezed the slim contours of the glass. Even as Arthur kept fucking himself with his fingers and stroking his cock, each finger wrapped more snugly around the bottle neck until finally Merlin’s little finger joined the others in a tight fist and the tendons in his hand stood out.

The air vent seemed to whisper his name again, this time more urgently—“ _Arthur!_ ”—and he came apart with a choked sob. His orgasm lit his nerves and made everything a little softer, blurred around the edges, numb. His come trickled slowly through his fingers down into the vent, where it disappeared.

Arthur slumped against the wall he’d been leaning on and let out a shaky laugh. He had not expected to open the box and for _this_ to happen. One thing was for sure: Merlin could never find out. Even if Arthur did end up romancing Merlin a bit and they managed a date or two, a story like this would be utterly embarrassing.

Righting his clothing, Arthur resolved to never come to this box again, and closed it up before he could change his mind. And it was simply because Arthur forgot to return them that the photos of Merlin remained on top of a nearby box where Arthur had sat them, and not where they originated beneath the old, abandoned clothes.

Arthur placed the enticing photos in the nightstand in his room, then, determined to erase all strangeness from the morning, he moved to the study and set about installing the internet, then booting up his laptop. As soon as he could, he began looking for something to take his mind off the recent unsettling occurrences in his house. Namely, a job.

Arthur was in luck. A book shop not three miles down the road was looking for someone to help keep inventory and work the desk. The pay wasn’t what Arthur was used to, that was for sure, but he’d already paid for the house in full. All he needed was a few thousand pounds a month to keep electricity, water, and all that on. Then, he supposed, one day, he might possibly—hopefully—be able to return to work for his father and get on with his normal life. Though, that certainly didn’t seem like a possibility given his father’s notorious inability to budge on anything ever.

Arthur trotted down the stairs, grabbed his keys, and headed out. It was mid-morning, getting on noon, and the day was looking to be a hot one. It suddenly struck Arthur as ridiculous that he had heat running in his house, but then a lot of things about his new house were odd.

Turning the key in his ignition, he glanced at the only house adjacent to his, the one where Merlin claimed to live. There was no auto in front of it and it looked like it hadn’t been lived in for months, maybe years. But then, Merlin did say he’d been mates with the previous tenant so maybe he spent most of his time away from home.

That thought led to another and Arthur frowned at the unexpected pang of jealousy. What did it matter to him if Merlin had been romantically involved with the last owner? Even so, the guy was gone now, and Arthur was there and—

No. No more thoughts of Merlin, no more thoughts of creepy old houses. Just up the road, get the job, grab a bite to eat, then back home to the thought-numbing, brain-mushing world of dramatic television. Nothing else.

The drive was short and he found the bookstore easily enough. The small town had one small shopping centre and the shop, simply named “Secondhand Books,” was next to the coffee shop, which, unsurprisingly enough, was just called Café.

A bell sounded when Arthur opened the door and a wrinkled old man, with white hair drawn back in a ponytail, appeared from behind a bookcase.

“Hello, may I help you?” he asked.

“Hi. I was just wondering if you’re still hiring?” Arthur said, putting on his most charming smile.

“Oh. Oh, yes. Right this way.”

That seemed to be all there was to it. The man led Arthur through a labyrinth of bookcases and piles that were stacked higher than he was tall, and into a back room that was hidden under a mountain of paper.

“You can start here.”

***

By the time Arthur got home, the sun had long since set. He sank onto his sofa with a sigh and rubbed his eyes with the back of a tired fist. He would just sit here, melted in the cushions for a while, then gather the energy to order takeaway.

Arthur had wanted something to focus on, but this was madness. He had spent more time looking at the tiny numbers on the back of books and categorising and shelving than he had in his whole life. Before today, he hadn’t even known what an ISBN was, let alone why it was so important.

Working for his father, he had to deal with calling people, going to meetings, calculating annual profits, and other such things. He didn’t think there was any other job more boring. He was so very wrong.

Arthur sighed and relaxed his eyes a moment. Pretty soon he’d need to start wearing glasses if he kept up staring at such small print all day. He put his head back and listened to the sounds of the old house just breathing.

A few minutes passed before he began shivering. He didn’t notice it at first, not until it became uncomfortably cold and the chill started to crawl beneath the folds of his clothing. He stood to adjust the thermostat. It was 10° again, even though he hadn’t touched it since before leaving the house earlier today.

“Piece of shit technology,” he muttered, tapping at the green screen irritatedly.

Another tapping noise caught his attention then, from upstairs. It was the familiar clicking of keys on a keyboard from before. He frowned and took the steps two at a time to investigate.

The study was dark and his laptop was shut. But that wasn’t right. Arthur hadn’t shut his laptop before he left; he never did. He always left it up and running, ready to go with a flick of the mouse.

However, he couldn’t look into the matter any deeper because just then someone knocked on his front door.

He closed the study and went back downstairs. Looking through the peephole, he saw a pimply, wide-faced young man wearing a beanie, a blue t-shirt, and brown plaid shorts. He could have been just a teenager but the dark circles under his eyes made him look older.

Arthur swung the door open. “Can I help you?”

The man spun around, having turned to bite his nails while he waited, and looked at Arthur with wide, young eyes.

“Who’re you?” he asked like he was surprised for Arthur to be there.

“I live here,” Arthur said slowly, in case the bloke was dumb, which he certainly looked. That, or high.

“Uh...huh. Is, er...Is Merlin around, by any chance?” Just as he asked, something over Arthur’s shoulder caught the man’s eye and he shifted his weight left to get a better look. His eyes widened even more and he nodded, like Arthur had spoken already.

Arthur glanced behind him but only saw his empty living room. “Um, no. You might try next door, considering that’s where he lives.”

“Yeah, no, I know. I live there too.” His words were coming fast now, like he couldn’t get them out quick enough. “He just hasn’t come back yet, I was getting a bit worried, and he’s usually over here if he’s not over there. At home, that is. But uh, just in case he does drop by here, would you give him this?"

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a light bulb. He handed it over to Arthur like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Careful. Don’t break it. It’s very important, okay?” He looked at Arthur with sincerity. “Extra, extremely, _super_ important, alright?”

“Yeah, okay.” Arthur held it in his cupped palms, his face a mix of disbelief, confusion, and plain creeped out.

“Oh, is the cable still up, by the way?” he asked. “I’m pretty sure the box was left here...”

Arthur looked behind him where he’d positioned the television. He saw the box laying beside it, then turned back around. “I haven’t checked yet, but I’ll, er, let you know?”

The young man visibly relaxed and glanced over Arthur’s shoulder again with a shy smile.“Thank you so much. I’m Will, by the way. I live next door. With Merlin. Right. G’bye!”

He took five long steps back onto his own property and disappeared inside his house, leaving Arthur to wonder just what the hell happened and why he was standing with a light bulb in his hands on his front step. Finally, he figured it was just the neighbourhood that was weird and closed the door.

For the second time, he thought maybe Morgana was right about this place. The house itself was frighteningly odd, and the more people he met the more mysterious the neighbourhood seemed. Arthur put the bulb in the seat of the recliner by the staircase. He yawned and pulled out his mobile to order something to eat.

Arthur had trouble sleeping that night. His body was heavy enough, and his eyes had certainly strained themselves throughout the day to warrant a good rest, but his mind was keeping him awake with fleeting images. He kept seeing Merlin’s eyes staring back at him from the photo; he kept hearing the thunderous “Get out!” echo through his skull that he may or may not have hallucinated.

It didn’t help that now, in the dark silence of his room, his breathing seemed loud and every sound from outside set his heart racing. It didn’t help that he felt as if he weren’t entirely alone, that someone was watching him.

He did something he hadn’t done since he was a child; he pulled the duvet over his head and curled into a tight, safe ball, taking up as least space as possible. His breath soon made his makeshift sanctuary warm, and he felt only mildly better.

Arthur was finally drifting off to sleep when he felt one side of the mattress dip beneath an unknown weight. At first he thought he imagined it, but as it seemed to crawl closer and closer to him, he began to shiver with fear. His cocoon of safety seemed much too hot all of a sudden, his breath adding to the clamminess of his sweaty skin. But he dared not poke even a toe out. He curled up tighter as a foreign presence seemed to creep right up next to him, until finally it felt as though someone lay in the bed beside him.

It was madness. Arthur swallowed the accumulated spit in his throat and shook his head, willing the hallucination away. He told himself again and again that he was alone in his house, alone in his bed, but no matter how tightly he pulled the duvet around himself, cold air seemed to make its way in, crawling down the back of his neck and feeling for all the world like someone breathing right behind him.

 _Ridiculous_ , Arthur thought to himself. _A coward_ , his father would say. To be so frightened, in his own home…it was so utterly unlike Arthur that shame overruled his sense of self-preservation and he threw back the duvet in a flare of angry courage.

Cold air hit his damp skin and it felt incongruously good in comparison to his fear. He looked around, searching the darkness for he knew not what, but there was nothing. Not even a phantom weight or impression in the bed beside him.

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disconcerted that he had imagined it all. Either way, sleep seemed an impossibility.

Sinking back to the pillow, Arthur mentally chided himself, his inner voice that of his father. He was a Pendragon, dammit. He wouldn’t let a few shadows and creaks of the walls frighten him. Arthur determinedly tucked the duvet under his arms and let the cold air brush his face as he closed his eyes and grappled for sleep that took forever in coming.

The next morning, Arthur woke slowly at first, warm in his cocoon of softness and the body around him. He hummed in contentment at the feeling, enjoying the simple pleasure of sharing his bed. Then his brow furrowed as he remembered he had nobody to share a bed with. He snapped his eyes open and immediately the feeling was gone, the only body in the bed his own. His hands patted the space beside him but it was cold.

His heart stopped, then stuttered forward into an almost painful pulse.

Arthur was sure he hadn’t been alone, could never have mistaken the feel of an arm around him, or of his back pressed tight to the chest of another. But there he was, alone. Completely alone in a cold, empty house.

Speaking of cold, he was freezing, his exhales forming clouds in the air, and his body was sticky with perspiration. Arthur had never quite known the meaning of the term “cold sweat” until he moved into this house.

He got up but didn’t bother going to the thermostat. The damned thing was broken and he’d have to call to get it fixed. Instead, he wandered around the house, not sure what exactly he was searching for. He had a general feeling of unease, a prickling at his skin and in his mind that had nothing to do with the temperature. It felt as though something was wrong, like a photo frame not perfectly straight but appearing normal.

The knight statuette stood guard at the bottom of the stairs, mocking him with its hollow darkness in the light of the morning. Arthur forced any bad feelings to the back of his head and went to get dressed.

But his footsteps seemed too loud, his breathing too heavy, his blinking too rapid. Opening the closet to get a shirt was like dragging a pitchfork across a chalkboard. Zipping up his trousers was like listening to a fly buzz lazily about on a hot summer day.

Then his mobile rang, high and shrill, and made him jump a metre in the air.

“Hello?” he answered it, voice hoarse from disuse.

“Arthur? It’s Morgana. How are you?”

Arthur sighed and mentally prepared himself for another one of _those_ conversations, though he was secretly glad for some form of normalcy. “I’m fine. And before you ask, yes, I’m sure.”

“Well...you’ll be happy to know that our father didn’t accept their company’s offer.”

“That’s supposed to make me happy?” Arthur snapped bitterly. “I’d much rather hear that the bloke—what's his name—was fired and couldn’t find work in the city again.”

“You really don’t even remember his name?” Morgana’s tone was somewhere between disappointed, disgusted, and sympathetic. Which was actually quite common with her.

“No. Bet he remembers mine though.” Arthur idly picked up a pair of dirty trunks with his curled toes, brought it up to his hand, and dumped it in the laundry. He started for the stairs to make tea.

“There’s no point being so nonchalant about it, Arthur. I know you too well to fall for that.”

“I’m not being nonchalant, I’m simply not dwelling on it. I’m moving on. And you should too. Everyone should.”

“Alright, alright, fine.” She changed the subject. “Have you got a job yet?”

“Yes,” Arthur said as he reached the bottom step. “There’s this secondhand bookshop in town and I happily spend the day hunched over piles of books and papers, categorising and archiving and—”

“It sounds exactly like what you did here.”

“But it’s so much worse! For one, the place is old and dim and cramped. And the owner, Gaius, has this permanently raised brow, I swear it’s fixed a good kilometre above his eye. Not to mention the little codes on the back of the books—”

“The ISBN?”

“Yeah, whatever, that. They’re incredibly long, and there’s tonnes of them, and the number of books in this place is never-ending even though the whole shop can’t be more than a hundred—”

“At least you’re getting paid.”

Arthur huffed. Leave it to Morgana to choose the wrong things to sympathise with and others to be completely careless about.

“Yes, well. That’s just the job. The house itself is terrible. The tub leaks, the floors creak, the loft’s dusty, the shower turns itself on and off, it’s always freezing, and the neighbours are complete weirdos.”

Morgana, the insufferable witch, just laughed. “Sounds like a stark contrast from your usual bland adventures.”

“I don’t _have_ adventures, Morgana. And I quite like it that way. Look, do you think there’s any chance Father will reconsider? Ealdor itself is alright, but I’m really missing my suite right about now.”

With his free arm, Arthur rubbed his shoulder. His toes were like icicles on the cold floor and the air seemed particularly chilly down here.

Morgana went back into good-sister mode. “I don’t think so,” she said gently. “Maybe one day, but not anytime soon. If it had happened some other way—”

“Yeah. Or if it had been just half an hour later so I could say I was pissed or any of the other big ‘ifs.’ Yeah, okay. So you’re saying I’m stuck here indefinitely.”

“I’m sorry, Arthur.”

“Not as sorry as I am. I’ll talk to you again when I get a land-line installed, okay? Please don’t ring me before then.” He hung up without waiting for a reply.

“Who was that?”

Arthur spun on his heels and, of course, Merlin was there leaning against the wall, grinning innocently. Arthur noted he was once again wearing the black button-down and grey jeans from the photo. At least Arthur himself was wearing more than just pants. The consistently low temperature required he keep fully clothed as often as possible.

“My sister. What are you doing here?” He walked past Merlin into the kitchen and wasn’t at all surprised to see that tea had already been made. Arthur spared a brief second to wonder how he’d missed hearing the kettle yet again. “I thought I told you to tell me before coming over.”

“Sorry, forgot. I’ll start tomorrow. You really think I’m a weirdo?” Merlin’s expression was guarded but the hidden tone of hurt was too obvious for Arthur not to pick up on.

Arthur sipped the tea. It wasn’t too hot or too cold and tasted...strangely perfect.

“Will is the weird one. You just don’t know the meaning of boundaries,” Arthur stated. Merlin seemed to be fine with that explanation. “So why are you here, besides to make me tea?”

“Will said you had something for me.”

“Yeah. It’s in the living room on the recliner.”

Merlin disappeared around the corner and Arthur followed, sipping his tea leisurely. When he crossed into the living room, Merlin was looking around, evidently puzzled.

“Are you sure it was on the recliner?” Merlin asked.

Arthur set his cup on the table. “Positive. I put it right there,” he pointed.

“Maybe you—”

“No. I definitely put it there.” Maybe Arthur _was_ imagining things a bit at night, but he was perfectly clearheaded in the daytime.

“Alright, well, it’s not a big deal. I’ll just…”

Arthur didn’t care one way or another about a silly little light bulb. It was easy enough to get a replacement. What irritated him was the fact that it was missing when it shouldn’t have been.

“What did you need it for?” Arthur asked, picking up his tea again. “I mean, I know what a light bulb is used for, obviously, but the way Will was handling it made it seem precious.”

Merlin wrung his hands and didn’t meet Arthur’s eyes. “Don’t laugh at me,” he said quietly. “But I’m sort of afraid of the dark.”

Had the conversation taken place a mere two days ago, Arthur would have indeed laughed. Remembering his own recent experience, however, stilled his tongue. He nodded and took a long sip of his tea.

“Of course,” Arthur said eventually. “The unknown is always frightening. I can understand that.”

“Yeah?” Merlin looked up hopefully.

“Yeah. And don’t worry about it. I’ve yet to go out and get things to stock this place properly. When I get loo roll and soap and everything, I’ll be sure to buy a whole bunch of lights. Your place’ll be lit up like a Christmas tree,” Arthur offered with a friendly smile.

Merlin visibly relaxed, and returned Arthur’s smile. “Thanks.”

Arthur shrugged it off. He sauntered back to the kitchen and consulted the time on the microwave. Gaius had told him to come back to the shop at nine. It was almost half eight now.

“I’ve got to leave soon,” Arthur announced. When Merlin didn’t get the hint and move to go, Arthur added, “I’ll see you later, alright?”

“Oh. Right, I’ll be off then. Bye!”

Arthur waited until he heard the door open and shut to let out a held breath. He rested his forearms against the worktop and hung his head between his shoulders. His life before had been so different. Mornings were routine, stiff, boring, predictable. He would have tea and scones, shower, dress, and be out the door. City life was ever-present just outside his large, spotless windows.

Now things were quiet. Things were eerily calm. Mornings started with nightmares, cold sweats, and only seemed to drag on from there. Merlin was the only thing in this new life of his that could make him smile, but even Merlin was strange.

Arthur wanted his old life back so badly it hurt.

He wrapped goose-fleshed arms around himself and let his body sink to the floor. He rested the side of his head against the wooden cupboard and curled his knees into his chest.

Arthur was hungry. That was it. Surely, that was the feeling eating away at the pit of his stomach. Surely, it wasn’t despair and hopelessness creeping in, making him want to curl even more in on himself and not go anywhere ever again.

He had to remind himself it wasn’t his fault he had been banished here. Maybe it wasn’t even that man whose name he forgot. He could try to blame his father for not understanding, but more often than not, Arthur ended up blaming himself for being so careless.

He beat his head against the cupboard in time with the seconds that passed. Thud. Thud. Thud.

He wanted to go home. This wasn’t home. This was a cold prison which had the occasional sparkle of life via Merlin. It felt like even the house didn’t want him here.

Arthur flicked his gaze up to the glowing digital numbers on the microwave. If he didn’t stop sulking, he’d be late for his second day. Sighing, he picked himself up and trudged to the shower.

***

Arthur’s second day at work wasn’t as bad as the first. Gaius was much nicer, and Arthur found it was because his ordeal the previous day had really been a test. Arthur wasn’t expected to pore over long lists of ISBNs and authors as the old man had let on. He would mainly be categorising and archiving things, since, being a secondhand bookshop, there were boxes upon boxes of books that needed sorting. And, being an old, technologically-impaired man, Gaius instructed Arthur to enter any information he could into the computer.

People brought in their old books almost daily, more often than not for free. Secondhand Books was like a landfill for the old paperbacks of the small town and Gaius seemed to like it that way, even if the store itself suffered because of it. He had books on every subject imaginable.

After work, Arthur stopped at the town’s grocery and picked up the essentials. As promised, he bought a supply of long-lasting light bulbs for Merlin. Just as the sun was disappearing behind the hills, Arthur parked in front of his house.

When he walked into his living room, Will and Merlin were playing cards on the floor. Will had on a large winter coat because, of course, it was freezing cold.

“Tell me, Merlin, do you own any other clothes?” Arthur teased as he toed off his shoes and set his bags down. He didn’t even comment on their presence or how entitled to it they seemed as they lounged on the floor. If he was being honest with himself, they made his little prison a tad more cosy.

Will looked up with wide eyes, glanced back and forth between Arthur and Merlin, then returned to staring intently into his hand.

“Nope,” Merlin said, grinning mischievously so Arthur knew it was sarcasm. “I don’t smell, do I?”

Arthur feigned taking a whiff. “Nope. Your friend does though.” He scrunched his nose at the smell of nicotine Will emanated as he stepped over Merlin’s prone body to go to the kitchen for a drink. He heard Merlin’s poorly hushed voice as he poured himself a glass of water.

“I thought I told you to quit smoking. Those things’ll kill you.”

“You’re one to talk,” was Will’s whispered reply.

“Shut up!”

Arthur returned and sat down on the sofa, clicked on the telly and pretended to watch the images on the screen while the two on the floor played cards. He wasn’t sure what game they were playing, or if they were even really playing at all. Finally, Will threw his hand down.

“You win. I’m bored with this game.”

“Fine. You wanna play, Arthur?” Merlin asked, looking up at him.

“I’m not much of a card player,” Arthur drawled. “I’ll pass.”

“I’m gonna head home.” Will stood up, stretched his legs and turned to go. “I’ll see you later, Merlin.”

“Yeah, I’ll be over in a bit.”

Will gave Arthur a yellow-toothed smile and left. Merlin hopped up onto the sofa beside Arthur.

“Anything good on?” he asked.

“Nope.” Arthur took a long sip of water. “Wanna help me put those things away?” He nodded at the grocery bags still by the door.

“Sure.”

Arthur set his glass down and got to his feet. They took the bags to the kitchen and began sorting through. Merlin smiled when he came upon the lights.

“Are these all for me or…?”

Arthur shrugged. To be honest, he hadn’t really thought about buying any for himself, though he supposed he’d need a few eventually.

“Take as many as you like,” Arthur said. “I’m going to put these upstairs.” He grabbed a few packages of loo roll and headed up.

When he came back down, everything had been sorted. Arthur opened the fridge and pulled out the leftover takeaway from the previous night.

“Hungry?” he asked Merlin.

Merlin had gone back to the living room and put his legs up. “Me and Will ate earlier,” he called back.

“Will and I.”

“Whatever!”

Arthur laughed. “Alright, suit yourself.”

He shoved a plate into the microwave and punched the time in, then walked back to the living room to collapse on the sofa next to Merlin.

Even though it was a bit cold, and even though they weren’t talking, Arthur felt a little less hollow sitting there with Merlin. He didn’t know what it was about the man—they hadn’t even talked enough to be called proper friends—but already that’s what Merlin felt like to Arthur. He thought of their first meeting and his initial reaction with amusement. If anything, Arthur seemed to be the intruder here. Merlin fit into this house better than Arthur ever could. Maybe Merlin was the one to bridge the gap and make this place finally feel like home.

And then the microwave dinged and shocked Arthur out of his thoughts.

“Do you honestly hate it here?” Merlin asked as Arthur returned with his plate of steaming food.

“What?” Arthur pulled the coffee table a bit closer and leaned forward to dig in. “What made you—”

“This morning, on the phone—”

“Ah.” Arthur pushed food around with his fork. “It’s not polite to eavesdrop.”

“I wasn’t, not really. I just…” Merlin had the decency to look sheepish and lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry if I’m making it terrible for you here.”

“What?” That _was_ a surprise. “Merlin, you’re the only good thing that’s happened to me since coming here.” And because that was much more than Arthur meant to say, he quickly added, “I mean who else would make me tea in the morning?”

Merlin’s grin lit up his face. Arthur had a feeling he hadn’t fooled Merlin in the slightest, but if that grin was the result, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

Then, just as quickly, the smile disappeared. “Do you mind if I ask why you moved here in the first place?”

Arthur’s stomach flipped. “Only if you tell me why you insist on letting yourself in and making me tea.”

A flicker of the earlier expression crossed Merlin’s face as he nodded. “Deal.”

Arthur sighed and took his first bite of food. This was the moment of truth. He’d been avoiding talking about this for a reason. But he did want _someone_ to confide in, someone he could voice his frustrations to. Merlin had this honest, humble, and—most importantly—caring, look in his eyes. It made Arthur feel as though maybe he could tell him and it would be okay.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Arthur began.

“That’s fine.”

Arthur furrowed his brow, choosing his words carefully. He tried not to stare too overtly at Merlin’s slender fingers laced together in front of him, or how the subtle tilt of his mouth showed his curiosity.

Maybe, Arthur thought fleetingly, it would be good to tell Merlin about himself. Maybe it would lead to something more between them.

Or it would make things painfully awkward.

“I was...fired from my last job. My boss...he was—is—also my father. He technically owned the building where I lived and kicked me out the same time he let me go,” Arthur said.

“Why did he fire you?”

To prolong the inevitable, Arthur took another mouthful of hot food. Then another, and another. Merlin, thankfully, didn’t seem to mind. He even shifted some of his attention back to the television, pretending to watch the programme that played across the screen.

“There was a company we were going to make a deal with, something that would be mutually beneficial,” Arthur explained. “A handful of chair members, myself included, were staying at a hotel to discuss things. You know, negotiate. Business stuff I won’t bore you with.”

Merlin nodded, still not taking his eyes away from the screen. Arthur found it much easier to go on without being scrutinised.

“Anyway, the assistant of one of their chair members…I can’t even remember his name…we started talking and getting to know each other. We had a couple drinks, nothing terribly strong. One thing led to another and...”

 _I can do this,_ Arthur thought, closing his eyes. _Just say it._

“My father…He came to my room while we were...while we were...”

“Fucking.”

Arthur exhaled, glad that Merlin understood and seemed to be fine with saying what he himself couldn’t. “Yeah. Yeah, we were fucking.” It was so nice to have the weight lifted from his shoulders and his secret out in the open. “And he just lost it. He fired me on the spot, just like that. Threatened to disown me, told me to get out of his sight, and never speak to him again.”

“What about the other guy?”

Arthur snorted, getting angry at the memory. “He got dressed and ran. Even if he hadn’t, my father wouldn’t have spared him a second thought. Because...because _he_ had been fucking _me_ and I guess that somehow made it worse.”

Merlin was quiet. Arthur was grateful because he didn’t think he’d be able to continue without getting even more angry, but he was also eager to hear what Merlin had to say, if their relationship would change now that he knew. Either for better or for worse.

To busy his mouth and get his thoughts back in order, he returned to eating.

“Thankfully, he didn’t disown me,” Arthur finally went on. “He gave me enough money to buy _this_ stupid place and settle down far, far away from him and basically told me to never come back.”

It was Merlin’s turn to snort and Arthur looked up in surprise. “Your dad’s a prick, no offence.”

“None taken?”

“And you want to go back?” Merlin wasn’t looking at the television anymore, but eyeing Arthur with honest concern. “You really want a life working under a man like that? Is that really the kind of boss you’d like to be hired by? And as a parent, what kind example has he set? Threatening to disown you just ‘cause you take it up the arse? That’s pretty fucking ridiculous!”

Arthur turned deep red, partly from embarrassment at such blunt speech and partly from excited agreement. His stomach fluttered at the possibility of meaning behind Merlin’s words.

Merlin continued. “What you should have done was sued for discrimination, made off with the money, and told him you quit. Then spat in his arrogant, posh, homophobic face!”

The house echoed with Merlin’s words and faded to the dramatic soundtrack rising from the television. After an awkward beat, Merlin laughed nervously.

“Sorry. I can get worked up about these sorts of things,” he apologised.

 _These sorts of things,_ Arthur mentally repeated. Perhaps Merlin had experience in this particular area, after all.

“It’s fine. I suppose you’re right about some of it,” Arthur said. “I could have sued him, but that would bring too much attention to the company. I don’t know if I would have quit, but I definitely wanted to do more than spit in his face at the time. Rip off his head, more like.”

“Arthur, trust me. You don’t want to go back to working there.” Merlin put his hand on Arthur’s leg and looked somehow wise, though his face was still young and innocent. Arthur glanced at Merlin’s pale skin over the dark blue of his jeans and quickly looked back up. He briefly panicked that Merlin might have heard how his heart skipped when their skin first made contact.

“Do you really want to wake up every day and go to work just to see him staring at you with that look of disgust and disappointment?” Merlin asked. “He doesn’t sound like the type to suddenly ‘see the error of his ways’ and welcome you back with open arms. If you did sue him and he was obligated to rehire you, do you really believe you could handle all that entailed?”

Arthur thought of it all: his father’s watchful eye through childhood; his quiet pride when Arthur did something right; his explosive anger when Arthur botched something up; his constant high expectations that, no matter how hard Arthur tried, he never seemed to meet; his face when he’d walked into that hotel kitchen and seen Arthur being slammed into from behind the worktop, loving it, moaning for more; and finally, worst of all, how utterly disgusted he was. Uther had more than rejected Arthur’s way of life; he had rejected Arthur.

And just like that, piercing even through the excitement of physical touch with Merlin, Arthur’s hope was crushed. Any chance he thought he might have had to salvage a relationship with his father was completely gone. However, the rising anger Arthur felt slowly evaporated. Maybe it was Merlin’s presence, his hand finding Arthur’s and holding it reassuringly. Whatever it was, Arthur felt suddenly calm. He was still angry at his father, of course, and he would probably go into a devastating rage sometime in the near future, but at this moment he was completely at ease.

His cold prison seemed to enlarge and he felt a good bit more liberated.

“Arthur?”

Merlin’s voice seemed to pull Arthur back from a dream. “Sorry,” Arthur replied. “It’s just…you’re right. Now that I think about it, he could have reacted a lot worse. He could have told me I was an abomination and try to force me to date women. Yet all he did was throw me out of his life. I know that’s not exactly great either, but…I’d rather have him realise it’s no use trying to change me and just casting me away than thinking there’s a way to make me into what he wants me to be.”

Realising they’d somehow dived straight into touchy-feely territory, Arthur slid his hand out of Merlin’s and looked away. He went back to his food and hoped Merlin would leave the conversation at that.

Luckily, he did. Merlin turned his attention back to the show neither of them were really watching and silence settled between them easier than Arthur would have thought possible considering what he just revealed. He scarfed down his meal then rose to put his dishes away.

Shivering as he walked back, he remembered what else he had planned for today, and took his mobile out of his pocket. He dialled the number Gaius had suggested and waited for someone to answer.

As he explained the temperature issue to the man on the other end, Arthur was acutely aware of Merlin’s slim fingers drumming on the cushion between them. They were distracting, an act of what seemed to be anxiety or just idle play, and Arthur longed to reach out and still them. Instead, he clenched his sweaty fists and snapped at the man that he didn’t want to wait a week, he wanted it fixed _now_.

“This house has been empty a long time,” Merlin said when Arthur ended the call.

Arthur looked at him in confusion. “What?”

“You told me why you moved here. I haven’t told you why I make you tea.”

“Oh.” Arthur frowned. He opened his mouth to mention that Merlin had obviously lied the first day about not knowing someone else was moving in. But then he stopped himself. He could forgive Merlin, he supposed, since Merlin had been so understanding about his own problem.

“I...miss the bloke that lived here,” Merlin went on. “We were very close. Like brothers.”

Merlin was biting his lip in thought. Just yesterday Arthur had imagined the same thing when he got himself off to those photos. He tried not to let his gaze linger on the white square of teeth digging into the soft pink flesh. A deeper, wetter shade of pink darted out and licked the indentation away. It happened quickly and unthinkingly, similar to clearing a throat, but to Arthur it seemed to happen in slow motion. He traced the movement hungrily.

“As I said that first morning, I always made tea for him,” Merlin continued, and Arthur tore his eyes away from Merlin’s mouth to meet the deep grey-blues staring back into his own. “When I heard somebody new would be moving in, I just thought...well, that I’d really like to keep doing it.” Merlin smiled a bit shyly. “And hey, nothing bad came of it. You’ve only been here a couple days and we’re already friends.”

Arthur returned the smile. With Merlin, it seemed to be contagious.

“Nah,” he teased. “I’m only keeping you around for the tea.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and nudged Arthur playfully with his knee. Arthur’s heart danced and he couldn't help the carefree laugh that suddenly escaped his chest. Merlin _was_ a talented tea-brewer, though. Arthur had only told Merlin how he liked it the one time, and from then on it’d been made perfectly. Arthur would never outwardly praise him, of course, but he would show his appreciation.

“How are you not freezing?” he asked Merlin when another shiver went down his spine.

“Sorry.” Merlin shrugged. “Got used to it.”

Arthur touched Merlin’s porcelain forearm and instantly yanked his hand back. “Your skin is like ice, Merlin!”

Merlin chuckled. “No, you’re just burning up.”

“Weirdo,” Arthur said fondly. “So what is there to do for fun around here?”

“Plenty. But that’s Will’s area, not mine. I’m the stay-at-home type.”

“I usually am too, but I just...really need to get out.” _Out of this prison._

“Hating my company that much already?” Merlin had a glint in his eye but Arthur could tell he was only half joking.

“No. It’s mainly the move. I’m used to the city and it’s too quiet here. I feel...isolated, I guess is the right word. I need people.”

“People.” Merlin repeated the word like it was a disease.

Arthur looked sideways at him in surprise. Merlin was the most amicable guy he’d ever met. “Don’t tell me you don’t like people.”

“Oh, no no no, people are fine. They’re great.”

“But?”

“But nothing. Look, I’ll talk to Will about taking you out somewhere tomorrow night. He knows loads of places. And people,” Merlin added.

“I’m not exactly sure I’d like to see what people he knows, but it’s not like I have any other options. Sure, why not?”

“Great.” But to hear Merlin say it, it was clear he felt just the opposite.

***

Arthur wasn’t sure how it got to this point, but he didn’t quite care either. He recalled meeting the bloke on the dance floor, a bit of unrestrained grinding, breathless laughter in the back of a taxi as they snogged despite the glare of the cabbie, then of course fumbling with the keys for far too long on his doorstep.

Now, shuffling into the living room and pulling off layers of clothing, Arthur wondered briefly whether or not the man had told him his name. He’d had entirely too much to drink, and—as only to be expected of being in Will’s company for an evening—was a tad bit high, so he wasn’t too coherent and was thinking almost completely with his dick. It wouldn’t be the first time.

And this man, whatever his name was, was all hands. He had slim, nimble fingers, digits that probed and grabbed and explored. Though slim, they were strong, and seemed to be everywhere at once: Arthur’s hips, his arse, his neck, curling into his hair, wrapping around his arm, palming his crotch, thumbing a sensitive nipple. All Arthur wanted was for this man to stop using his hands and to envelope him with his whole body already.

Arthur dragged him up the stairs by his lips. He kept the bloke huffing and giggling, dived in for a dirty kiss, nipped the bottom lip, then pulled away just as it got really good. By the time they reached the bedroom both their lips were red and their cocks achingly hard.

“‘S like an icebox in here,” the man said.

“Warm it up then.”

The line was ridiculous even to Arthur but now was not the time to dwell on it. They fell onto the bed, Arthur first, and rolled until the man began kissing a trail down Arthur’s front.

Arthur arched his back and moaned at the glorious tongue on his skin. Yes, this was what he’d been missing, this was what he’d meant when he asked what there was to do for fun. The heavy weight on top of him, the teasing tip of a tongue dancing around his navel, the desperate need for release that seemed just out of his reach; all of these were things he hadn’t had a chance to experience since his father made him resent himself for wanting it. And now he was giving in, giving in to this beautiful man with raven hair, pale skin, and grey-blue eyes that looked up at him full of stormy desire...

“Merlin,” Arthur moaned quietly.

Where the hell did that come from? Lucky for Arthur his current bedmate seemed not to have heard it; he was too busy licking up the tangy precome from Arthur’s eager cock. Arthur lifted his hips just a bit and the man on top of him took him in, sucked the head and tongued the slit, before sliding the whole length in slowly.

Arthur’s head reeled and his vision blurred. His body was tense with pleasure and everything seemed to come down to just his cock and the warmth around it. He let himself be pulled up and out through it, clutched the sheets beneath him and twisted them in his fingers. He was so close. He wondered what this man would let him do, whether he would swallow or take Arthur’s hot semen on his face.

Arthur opened his eyes and looked down his chest at the bobbing head over the V of his legs. The man’s face had hardened, changed somehow. The lashes were longer and lay artfully over the taut skin stretched across high cheekbones, all the more beautiful when they were hollowed to suck cock better.

The lashes lifted to reveal wide lust-blown eyes, eyes that Arthur had seen before staring back at him from a photo, eyes that crinkled at the corners with joy, twinkled with mischief, sparkled with delight. Eyes that were entirely Merlin’s.

And the face was Merlin’s. Those were Merlin’s pink bow lips wrapped around his cock, Merlin’s jutting cheekbones demanding to be caressed by Arthur’s strong hands, Merlin’s mop of dark locks that starkly contrasted his white flesh.

Arthur didn’t dare look away. There was humour in those eyes, satisfaction, happiness, and yes, even a bit of smugness. Merlin knew just what he was doing to Arthur, knew how mad with lust he was making him, and still he didn’t stop. He stared straight at Arthur as he sped up, held Arthur’s hips down so he could have his mouth fucked at his own pace, and finally, with the slightest flick of his tongue to the slit, had Arthur coming down his throat so hard that Arthur threw his head back, squeezed his eyes shut, and screamed “Oh God, _fuck_!”

Merlin slid up Arthur’s still trembling body and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, but when Arthur opened his eyes again it was not Merlin he saw. The hair was too curly at the end, the eyes too childish, and the skin too creamy vanilla instead of glacier white. When Arthur cupped the man’s cheek, he felt the rough beginnings of facial hair.

He attributed it all to his being cross-faded and shrugged it off. He kissed the man again—whose name he really should find out—and tasted himself on his tongue.

“You’re not the type to be completely useless after coming, are you?” he asked in a low voice.

Arthur shook his head. “No.”

“Good. I want to see you bouncing on my cock.”

Arthur couldn’t help but whimper at that, try as he might to stifle it. “Yeah,” he breathed. “God, yeah. Fuck me, _please_.”

The man began to move but Arthur stopped him. “Hang on. What’s your name again?” Arthur asked.

“Mordred,” he replied with an amused expression.

“Mordred,” Arthur echoed. “Lube’s in the drawer, Mordred.” He jerked his limp hand to the nightstand on his left.

Mordred crawled over him and reached to open the drawer but it wouldn’t budge. At the sound of struggle, Arthur turned his head to look. He tried to pull it open himself only to yield the same fruitless result.

“What the hell?” he muttered in frustration.

“Hey.” Mordred’s hand on his back was calm and reassuring. “It’s alright. I’ve got some with me.” He got up and searched for his discarded clothing in the dark. He looked through all his pockets, but couldn’t find it, or the condom he’d stashed in his wallet.

“Or not.” He frowned and looked up at Arthur apologetically. “Plan B, then?”

“What’s that?” Arthur asked. Mordred wiggled his fingers and cocked an eyebrow suggestively. Arthur nodded and butterflied his legs open. He was disappointed but he didn’t let it show too much.

Mordred settled himself between Arthur’s legs and worked him open with spit alone. It was slow-going and Arthur needed so much more. When three fingers fit comfortably, Mordred positioned himself so he thrust into the place where Arthur’s thigh became his pelvis, and rubbed Arthur’s prostate each time he pushed forward.

It wasn’t completely unsatisfying but Arthur still felt cheated out of a good fuck. Either way, it was more than he’d had in a while so he didn’t complain. The blow job, at least, had been spectacular.

He lay back with his hands behind his head, Mordred’s spunk hot and white on his chest, as he watched the dark-haired man dress. Just as Mordred was about to leave, he stopped, turned and leaned onto the bed to kiss Arthur a final time. Simultaneously, he placed a piece of paper beside Arthur’s still thrumming body.

“My number,” he said. “If you ever want to go again.” He swiped his tongue over Arthur’s bottom lip as a farewell and pulled away, then was gone.

Arthur sighed when the front door slammed shut with finality. He trailed his index finger through the sticky mess on his torso absent-mindedly. It was Friday night. He’d been in this arse crack of a town five whole days now. He had a job, he had friends (well, one friend that seemed to come with a plus one), yet he still wasn’t happy. It was something about the house. It was the perpetual coldness, the odd noises he always seemed to be imagining, the stupid knight statuette at the bottom of the stairs that creeped him out to no end.

Arthur stood, put on his pants, and walked to the loo. He wiped himself off with a damp towel and went back to bed. It was still cold—the repairman had come the day before but hadn’t found a single thing wrong with the system—so he hurried to get under the duvet. It was warm from his and Mordred's bodies, and smelled like sex.

He still felt as though someone was watching him.

***

Arthur knew it was the odd mix of alcohol and whatever drug Will had slipped him that made him see Merlin instead of Mordred sucking his cock. Still, it was awkward when he saw Merlin the next morning.

Arthur stopped mid-step on his way down the stairs. “Hey,” he said upon seeing Merlin staring at the television. When he looked to see why he hadn’t heard anything, he saw Merlin had the sound muted.

“Hi,” Merlin replied with his usual smile, though it lacked its usual brightness. “I’ve made you tea. Have fun with Will last night?”

Arthur shrugged and sat beside Merlin on the sofa, picking up the steaming cup on the table in front of him. “Can’t say I had a _bad_ time.”

“But?”

 _But I was supposed to get fucked,_ Arthur thought crossly as he took a sip. Aloud, he said, “But it wasn’t much compared to the kind of fun I used to have in the city.”

Merlin let out a bark of laughter. “Did you used to have orgies in the city, then?”

Arthur nearly choked. “No! I didn’t even—” He huffed. “The music was shit.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “The music?”

“ _Yes_ , the music,” Arthur snapped. Merlin looked puzzled by the curt tone so Arthur apologised. “Sorry. I don’t mean to take it out on you, it’s just…this stupid house and this stupid town. No wonder the bloke before moved out.”

Merlin didn’t say anything to that, just returned his attention to the soundless programme in front of them, and Arthur was worried he’d offended him again. He decided he’d try to brush over it. “What do _you_ usually do for fun?” he asked, and raised his cup of tea to his lips again.

Merlin looked taken off-guard by the question. “Me?”

“You’re the only one here besides me.” Arthur elbowed him lightly. “Yes, you.”

“I just…” Merlin shrugged. “I come spend time with you,” he said sheepishly.

“And before I moved in? Don’t say you spent time with _him_. I know you’re not that codependent.”

Merlin wet his lips and Arthur traced the path of Merlin’s tongue with his eyes before he could stop himself. “No, I…I never really went out much. I was sort of a workaholic.”

“’Was?’”

“I’m a bit stuck at the moment.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “I don’t get it.”

“Oh!” Merlin slapped his forehead. “Duh, I didn’t tell you. I’m a writer. I spent most of my time writing. I used to be able to spit out books like clockwork. Not so much anymore, unfortunately.”

“Ah. You weren’t kidding about being a stay-at-home type.”

“It’s not that I don’t like people,” Merlin said.

“Clearly. You’re so friendly one might even go so far as to say clingy,” Arthur joked.

Merlin smiled, albeit sadly. “I just…don’t go out.” He shrugged.

Arthur thought of the photos he still had hidden away in his nightstand. That was evidence that Merlin had gone out at least once. He hesitated a moment before bringing it up, but he had to know.

“I found a box in the loft the other day,” he began, setting his cup on the table. “There were some photos of you. It looked like you were at a party.” Merlin’s face clouded over but Arthur forced himself to go on. “Do you know what I’m talking about?”

He saw Merlin’s throat work as Merlin swallowed. The gesture of nerves was answer enough, but Merlin’s words contradicted it. “Sorry. No idea. I don’t like parties.”

Arthur didn’t know why Merlin would lie. Maybe something bad happened at the party that he didn’t like talking about. But Merlin himself had said they were friends. Arthur told Merlin the horrible truth about why he moved, so why couldn’t Merlin be upfront about this?

“Are you sure?” Arthur tried again. “I could get the photos for you. It might help you remem—”

He stopped when the television suddenly went black. He frowned and reached for the remote, and was about to press the power button when it turned itself back on.

“Bloody thing’s broken like everything else,” Arthur muttered and set the remote back on the table. He turned back to Merlin, who was frowning down at his hands. “Look, Merlin. Is there a reason you don’t like to go out? I know it may not seem like it, but I’m actually a pretty good listener.”

Merlin’s lips twitched up in a small smile. “Yeah. I know. I appreciate it, but I’d rather not talk about it.”

Arthur hesitated to move at first, but remembered Merlin doing the same for him. He rested a hand on Merlin’s wrist and when Merlin stopped threading and unthreading his fingers he moved down to hold it. It was cold as always and clammy with sweat.

“You do know what photos I mean, then?” Arthur asked gently, even though his heart was hammering from touching Merlin.

Merlin sighed and squeezed Arthur’s hand. “Yes,” he admitted.

“There were clothes in the same box. Do you know why they were in the loft?”

Merlin shook his head. “I didn’t even know they were there.”

“You can have them, if you want.” The clothes were still folded in the same dusty box he’d found them in.

“Nah, that’s alright. Too many bad memories. You can keep them.”

“What makes you think I want them?” Arthur said defensively. “I’m still trying to get rid of that stupid metal statue that was left here.” He jerked his head in the knight’s direction.

Merlin laughed. “I happen to love that thing.”

“Then take it over to _your_ house. It gives me the creeps.”

“It wouldn’t fit the decor. It looks good where it is, don’t you think?”

Arthur cocked an eyebrow at the metal statuette that stood rigid and hollow at the base of the stairs. Even in the pale light of the morning it seemed ominous, as if it pulled shadows from nearby in which to wrap itself.

“Whatever you say.” Arthur shrugged. He went to slide his hand free, but Merlin’s fingers squeezed and kept him there. He looked up in surprise. Merlin’s eyes were firmly fixed on the television, watching blankly as if nothing was amiss.

Arthur swallowed thickly and used his free hand to pick up the remote. He un-muted the television and settled in to watch, drinking the rest of his lukewarm tea before it cooled completely.

It was as cold as ever in the draughty house, but Arthur was nowhere close to feeling it. Everything in the universe seemed to pinpoint directly back to his hand in Merlin’s. His heart pounded on with no sign of slowing and he found it difficult to breathe normally.

He wondered for a panicked moment if it was just him. He snuck quick glances at Merlin whenever he gathered the courage and was finally rewarded when his knee brushed against Merlin’s and Merlin’s lips parted in a quiet gasp. Merlin’s mouth instantly reset itself, but he also shifted and cleared his throat.

Confident in the knowledge that Merlin seemed to like this as much as he did, Arthur let himself settle. He relaxed his shoulders and loosened his grip until his and Merlin’s hands were comfortably resting together. He might have even allowed himself a victorious smile.

They could only pretend to watch television for so long, though. When the credits for one show started rolling and the title theme for another started up, Merlin’s knee began to bounce up and down restlessly. Arthur nudged Merlin and shot him an amused look.

“Sorry,” Merlin said. “I get random spurts of energy sometimes. I was never one for sitting still very long.”

“That’s surprising, given the amount of time you must sit at the computer.”

“It’s not a problem when I’ve got a story in my head. It’s a problem when I _don’t_.” Suddenly, Merlin stood and pulled Arthur up along with him. “Come on, let’s do something productive. Surely you haven’t finished unpacking everything.”

Arthur felt like he must have been glowing, he was so happy that Merlin’s hand still latched onto his. “Alright. I have a few books that need putting away. And I haven’t got around to hanging curtains.”

Now that Arthur thought about it, he hoped the curtain rod he had would span the length of the window. He also needed to decide what to do with all the suits he owned. And his stereo! He had neglected setting that up for far too long.

“Sounds fun.”

“It’s _work_ , Merlin,” Arthur pointed out, laughing.

“Bollocks. Unpacking the kitchen wasn’t so bad, was it?” Merlin began tugging Arthur up the stairs.

“I suppose not.” Arthur had to admit Merlin had made the job a considerable bit more bearable, whereas Arthur would have pinned it as drudgery before.

“This’ll be the same. Now show me where these books are. Are they any good?”

When they reached the master bedroom and its maze of boxes, Arthur reluctantly let go of Merlin’s hand. He gestured to the boxes marked _books_.

“Not really. They’re mostly about ethics in business, and moral codes and whatnot.”

Merlin wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Seems to me like they need to be thrown out, not put on a bookshelf.”

Arthur raised a brow. “Thrown out? You, of all people, would suggest that?”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t suggest donating them to Gaius! Nobody should be subjected to such cruel torture.”

Arthur smiled fondly and opened the first box. He’d been subjected to it plenty over the years he worked for his father. He could easily recall nights spent memorising terms and conditions, contracts and all manner of things that seemed of life or death importance. Out here, in the quiet peacefulness of Ealdor, it all seemed silly. Pointless, even.

“Alright.” Arthur nodded and closed the box resolutely. “Rubbish it is, then.”

Merlin punched the air. “Whoo! Already making progress. Okay, what about that box…”

The morning passed slowly and all at once, seeming to last forever and ending too soon. They’d made two piles, one of things to throw out, one of things to sort through later. With that accomplished, Arthur began lugging the rejects out to the bin while Merlin stayed inside to sort through the remaining boxes.

When Arthur finished throwing out the extra baggage of his past life, he went straight into setting up the stereo. He installed it in the corner of the room left of the door and plugged his music player in. The sound of a light, carefree, piano score soon filled the air. Arthur felt better than he had in years.

“Do you know what you’re going to do with this room yet?” Merlin asked just as Arthur was thinking he was getting a bit peckish.

“No,” Arthur answered truthfully. “Do you know what it was before? I mean I assume you’re fairly familiar with the house.”

Merlin nodded as he picked up and peered at various trinkets laid out in front of him. One was a Rubik’s cube Arthur had had on his desk back when he worked for his father. Merlin fiddled with it as he replied. “This was his bedroom.”

“What was his name, by the way?”

“Hmm. George. He was an odd one. But that’s why I liked him.”

“And that room?” Arthur jerked his head at the wall to his right, indicating the room he currently used as a bedroom. “What was that?”

“Library.”

“Library? But you said when we were working in the study that—”

“He had loads of books. _Loads_. I used to sit in there and read for hours.” Merlin’s voice became wistful with remembrance and his eyes got a faraway look. “It was wonderful. So many books you could hardly walk around. Even the closet was stuffed with them. The study was where he worked, but he kept all the books in there.”

Arthur could understand Merlin’s affinity for the things, considering his occupation. He himself enjoyed a good book or two but wasn’t much for accumulating his own private collection.

“Sounds like a fire hazard to me,” he said.

Merlin came back to the present and rolled his eyes. He threw the Rubik’s cube at Arthur, which Arthur caught easily.

“Well, _George_ could appreciate it. All the books are gone now. Took them with him when he left.”

Merlin sounded so sad that Arthur didn’t know what to say. He turned the Rubik’s cube in his hands idly and searched fruitlessly for the right words as Merlin fumbled about with more boxes.

“Oh, hey this is—”

Arthur looked up at the sudden stop. Merlin was standing by the vent, approximately where Arthur had left the box from the loft. His stomach plummeted.

“Merlin—”

“Where are the photos?” Merlin asked, looking over his shoulder with a blank expression.

Arthur cringed. That was exactly the question he’d been hoping to avoid.

“I, uh, put them away. Somewhere else.” The answer sounded lame even to him.

“Where?”

“You want them back? You said earlier you didn’t—”

“No, no, I don’t want them. I don’t even want to see them. I meant what I said about bad memories. I was just wondering.”

Arthur wet his lips and looked away. “I can get them if—”

“I said I didn’t want to see them, didn’t I?” Merlin snapped. Arthur flicked his eyes back to Merlin at the tone, and as a result Merlin softened his next words. “Sorry. I was just…Why move the photos and not the clothes? It’s odd that you didn’t keep them together, is all I mean to say.”

Arthur felt his face heat. Here it was. Now they’d come to it. Arthur didn’t think he’d lose Merlin’s friendship; quite the contrary if the hand-holding was any indicator. But there was still the slim possibility that Arthur had looked too deep into things and seen too much, seen only what he wanted to see.

“They’re, um. I put them in my nightstand.”

Merlin blinked and his eyes got large. “You…Oh. _Oh_.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well that’s certainly…flattering.”

Arthur felt his hopes shatter. “But?”

“I mean, you’re very nice, besides being an utter prat at first, and it’s not as if you’re unattractive—”

“But?”

“And I’m sure you’re good at all sorts of things, and we seem to get along well even though—”

“ _But_?”

“But I’m not the dating type.”

Arthur stood, uncomprehending, a few silent seconds. Merlin stood opposite him, waiting with a hopeful expression. What _he_ had to be hopeful for, Arthur had no idea.

“You’re not the dating type,” Arthur echoed dumbly. “What does that mean? You don’t do relationships?”

“No! No, it’s just…remember how I said I don’t like going out? Well, I meant…I don’t like leaving the house.”

“Have you got agoraphobia?”

“What? No! No, it’s nothing like that. I’m not afraid. I just have no interest in…out there.” Merlin waved his hand at the window. “I like simple things. Staying inside, reading…simple things.”

Arthur grasped at the tiny shred of hope left and walked a bit closer. “I don’t mind. Nothing has to change. We could stay in and do things like we’ve been doing. Only we’ll…I mean I want…” Arthur had never had trouble articulating what he wanted to do to a partner before. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Like friends with benefits?” Merlin offered warily.

“Yes! I mean no!” Arthur groaned. “Look, I’m trying to say I want what we have now, only a little…more? I want to be able to hold you and kiss you and…Goddammit Merlin, don’t make me talk about my _feelings_.” He felt like he was making a fool of himself as it was.

Merlin laughed, but thankfully it didn’t seem to be at him. “I understand. You’re saying that you’re okay with not going out on dates. That we can have our own at home.”

“Yes,” Arthur breathed, relieved Merlin could put it in words better than he could.

Merlin’s friendly smile faded slightly. “It won’t last, Arthur. Don’t you think you’ll get bored? That you’ll want more? I won’t be able to give you that.”

“What’s the harm in giving it a try?”

“The _harm_ , Arthur, is that I’m not willing to risk putting myself out there like that,” Merlin replied curtly, a spark of anger in his eyes. “You may not want to talk about your feelings, but I’m perfectly fine telling you that it’ll hurt me beyond repair if I get attached, only for you to change your mind later. _That’s_ the harm, Arthur.”

Arthur swallowed, chastised. “I didn’t mean…Sorry.”

Merlin sighed and took a few steps closer. He slid his hand into Arthur’s and smiled brightly again. “Let’s just go on being friends, alright?”

Arthur looked down at their hands a moment, then brought them up between them. “I don’t know about you, Merlin, but this,” he said, indicating their clasped hands, “this does a lot more for me than anything between ‘just friends.’”

Merlin’s fingers squeezed as his expression turned to one of pain. “I know, Arthur. I know.”

Arthur cupped the back of Merlin’s neck in a quick motion, just rough enough for Merlin to inhale sharply.

“Do you, Merlin? _Do_ you know? Do you know that every time I look at you, I have to restrain myself from touching you? Or that your smile makes my heart—”

“ _Arthur_. There’s no need to wax poetic,” Merlin whined, but looked as desperate as Arthur felt.

“Fine. But let me at least kiss you. Just once, Merlin, that’s all I ask.”

“Arthur—”

“ _Please_. Life is too short not to take a risk every now and then. If I’m going to be lamenting the loss, at least let me have a proper sense of what I’m losing.”

Merlin let out a choked sob. His forehead knocked into Arthur’s as he seemingly lost the will to hold himself up.

“It’s just lust,” he cried. “You don’t mean it.”

“Maybe it is,” Arthur said. “Maybe your unending kindness and fear of the dark and bright smiles have me completely infatuated with you. Maybe by this time next week I won’t think about you at night, wishing you were there to keep me company. You won’t know unless you give me a chance, Merlin.”

Arthur couldn’t understand it. He’d been in exactly two relationships before, and one time in particular he’d been hurt. But he’d never encountered such stubbornness against entering a relationship from fear of it not working out in the end. He’d also never experienced anything like what he felt for Merlin before.

He had to make Merlin see. One kiss would do it. One kiss would get Arthur’s feelings across better than words ever could.

He moved his hand up Merlin’s neck to cradle his face. A single tear had fallen, and Arthur quickly wiped it away with his thumb. Merlin’s eyebrows were thick, black, wrinkled lines above his sparkling blue eyes. Arthur thumbed those smooth as well, before placing a single experimental kiss on Merlin’s frowning lips.

As soon as Arthur drew away, Merlin gasped and lunged forward for more. He lowered his head and nudged Arthur’s lips apart with his own, sucking the top one eagerly. Arthur squashed the victorious wave that swelled within him to focus on reciprocating, showing Merlin with his mouth how much he could take care of him.

He didn’t much like the way Merlin’s hands clutched at him, like this was fleeting, or like Arthur might pull back to end it any second. He wanted Merlin’s hands to be those of a lover’s, to be certain and confident of their welcome. He placed his palms flat on the small of Merlin’s back and pulled him in to demonstrate just how he wanted Merlin’s hands to touch him.

“We shouldn’t,” Merlin gasped when Arthur bent to ravage his neck.

“Why?” Arthur asked. “Give me one good reason why and I’ll stop. Do you want me to stop?” Arthur didn’t know if he would be able to, regardless of Merlin’s answer.

“No. God, no, I want—” There. There were Merlin’s hands clutching Arthur the right way, grabbing fistfuls of his arse and pulling him closer, bringing their erections flush against each other.

“Then you shall have me,” Arthur replied in Merlin’s ear. He was rewarded with a full-body shudder that indicated they should move somewhere more horizontal. Arthur turned them until he could guide Merlin backwards through the hall and into the bedroom, the sound of a classical piano fading behind them.

“We shouldn’t…” Merlin protested again weakly as Arthur kissed him down onto the bed. “There’s something you don’t know…”

Arthur halted. “Are you…do you have a…disease or something?”

Merlin’s brow furrowed. “What? What? No. No, I—”

Arthur didn’t listen. It didn’t matter. He returned to Merlin’s soft lips to shut him up and ran his hands up Merlin’s chest, hating the thin layer of black fabric in the way.

Merlin’s own hands scrambled limply at Arthur’s arms and shoulders. They laid caress upon fleeting caress on Arthur’s skin, adding fuel to the fire in Arthur’s groin, driving him on to tear Merlin completely apart.

He went for the buttons of Merlin’s shirt impatiently, growling into the hollow of Merlin’s throat as he worked his way down. He couldn’t fucking wait to get Merlin out of these clothes, to have Merlin bared before him, to devour.

Every expanse of newly revealed skin only made Arthur harder. He ground his hips forward in languid undulations, rubbing his cock against Merlin’s enough to make himself pulse with eagerness. Merlin’s breathy moans spurred him on. He had to have more.

Merlin pushed himself up to shrug out of his top. His hands returned purposefully, sliding beneath Arthur’s shirt and up his torso as his tongue mirrored his movements and slid into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur cupped Merlin’s face to bring him closer and deepened the kiss even more, chasing Merlin’s tongue when it flicked teasingly against the roof of his mouth. He shuddered when Merlin’s fingertips grazed his nipples.

Arthur pulled his shirt over his head, nearly elbowing Merlin in the face in his haste. Merlin huffed a laugh and attached his lips to newly bared skin. Arthur let his head fall back and carded his fingers through Merlin’s soft mop of hair, basking in the pleasant sensation of kisses being sucked across his chest.

And then he felt Merlin’s cold fingers flutter across his abdomen in an effort to pull down his trousers. He lowered his head down to kiss Merlin again and pushed them forward until they were horizontal. Lips never breaking contact, Arthur shifted his weight to the side and pulled at his trousers until they were halfway down his legs. He gave his pants the same treatment and gasped when a slender hand wrapped sure fingers around his cock.

Merlin pumped him, slow and teasing, as he sucked Arthur’s tongue. Arthur lowered himself back down until their chests came together and he could properly feel Merlin’s skin on his again. His hands splaying on the duvet on either side of Merlin’s head, he thrust lightly into Merlin’s grip.

But it felt too one-sided. Arthur navigated kiss by kiss down Merlin’s torso, sliding tragically out of Merlin’s grasp until his face was centimetres away from the bulge in Merlin’s grey jeans. He kicked off the trousers that still hung onto his own body and settled himself between Merlin’s legs, nosing the crotch of Merlin’s jeans as he undid the zip. Hands trembling, Merlin brushed Arthur’s hair out of his eyes and continued to stroke the back of his head.

Merlin’s cock lay flushed pink and hard against his thigh. Grabbing hold and rubbing a thumb over a raised vein, Arthur pursed his lips over the head and sank down. Merlin was incredibly hard, like a steel rod enveloped in soft cotton, and the length and girth challenged Arthur’s jaw, but Arthur was never one to back down from a challenge. He took Merlin in until tears began to prick the corners of his eyes, and earned a sharp “Ah!” from Merlin, as well as a tug on his hair.

Merlin’s legs bracketed him so tightly the inside of his jean-clad thighs brushed Arthur’s cheeks. Merlin’s hips tried in vain to jerk upwards, but Arthur held him down and sucked slowly, at his leisure. Merlin tasted like no one else he’d done this for; not like tangy sweat, not like metallic flesh, but like cold fruit. Beneath the otherwise familiar musk of sex was a hint of apples.

Wanting more, Arthur pulled off long enough to rip the remainder of Merlin’s clothes off. Merlin’s coltish legs sprawled outward, pulled Arthur back in by the waist and emphasised their claim with cold heels on the swell of his arse. Arthur smiled and leaned forward to devour Merlin again.

Now Merlin’s hair-dusted thighs rubbed pleasantly against Arthur’s cheek, the roughness of them tickling him. Arthur wrapped eager arms around them and held them close as he bobbed up and down on Merlin’s cock. The dark warmth between Merlin’s thighs became Arthur’s world.

“Nnnh,” Merlin moaned when Arthur tongued the slit. “Christ, Arthur. I…I need…”

Arthur let one arm fall from around Merlin’s thigh so he could snake a hand up to squeeze Merlin’s balls. Merlin yelped and his spine arched off the bed.

“Arthur!” Merlin’s hands tugged mercilessly at Arthur’s hair, painful enough that Arthur had to raise his head to see what it was Merlin wanted.

“What?” he asked hoarsely, licking his chapped lips.

“I don’t…don’t want to come yet,” Merlin panted. “Let me…” A corner of Merlin’s mouth twitched up. “It’s hardly fair if you do all the work, yeah?”

Arthur laughed. Much as he would like—love—to finish sucking Merlin’s cock, he realised Merlin’s need to give as good as he got.

“Alright.” Arthur ducked under Merlin’s legs and rolled over onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows and pinning Merlin with a challenging look. “Get to work then.”

Merlin’s eyebrow shot up and his expression morphed into one of delighted mischief. His lean body rolled gracefully until he was sitting astride Arthur like a king might sit upon his throne the first time. He looked down at Arthur with obvious desire to claim.

Arthur found it suddenly hard to breathe properly, and when he did, his exhales were white puffy clouds in the frigid air. Arthur, however, barely noticed the temperature. Perhaps Merlin was onto something about just getting used to it. Perhaps Arthur’s brain was just otherwise occupied.

Merlin, though, stopped his hips mid-roll. “Are you cold?”

Arthur furrowed his brow and wondered momentarily if he’d heard right. “What? No, I’m fine. Merlin, are you seriously asking me that right now?”

“I…Right, sorry.” Merlin shook his head and put on a smile. “Was just a bit worried. Wouldn’t want your cock shrivelling up now, would we?” To drive the point home, he wrapped his fingers around it and gave Arthur a few strong tugs. Arthur momentarily felt his limbs go numb.

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur moaned. He bit his lip to stifle any further words, mostly silly things that would make him sound impatient and desperate, things like _please_ and _fuck me_ and _if you don’t get that beautiful cock in me right this second, I’ll die_. So Arthur pushed his brows together and concentrated on not making an utter fool of himself. He breathed in lungfuls of air as Merlin laid more claiming kisses to his skin.

“Not that I—ah!” Arthur gasped as Merlin playfully bit a nipple. “Not that I don’t adore the attention, but…I can’t help but feel as though certain areas are being negle—”

“Impatient git,” Merlin muttered into Arthur’s navel. When his eyes flicked up to Arthur’s, they were a clear blue and evidently pleased. “Alright then. Is it safe to assume lube is in there?” He jerked his head in the direction of the nightstand over his shoulder.

Arthur found he couldn’t swallow properly for anticipation. He licked his lips and nodded.

Merlin smiled and pulled away to open the drawer. Arthur was just about to say something about there being a bit of trouble with it the previous night when a sudden cry pierced through his skull. He pressed his palms to his ears and tried in vain to block out the noise.

It was a thousand times worse than what he’d heard when he’d nicked the box from the loft. It rattled his bones and brought goosebumps to his skin; Arthur had never heard such a sorrowful wail. It wasn’t one, but seemingly many voices, all screaming at once, dragging out the stuttered beat of Arthur’s heart until his muscles seized and he felt frozen with fear.

Merlin himself seemed frozen for an entirely different reason. He’d stopped with his fingers still curled around the drawer handle, the drawer itself half open and its contents exposed. His eyes were wide, shocked, and duller than they’d ever been, almost a stormy grey in their lifelessness. His skin, even his slightly parted lips, had paled to the point of resembling a corpse. Eventually, Arthur just shut his eyes against the dreadful image and waited for the wailing from nowhere to stop.

After what felt like an endless span of time, the noise did cease, but Arthur’s body stayed locked. Only his harsh breathing and the faint piano from the other room cut the silence, and he dared not speak to interrupt whatever trance Merlin was in.

Another minute passed and Arthur forced himself to move, to do _something_. He pushed off his elbows and sat up to see what Merlin was staring at so intently. Retrieving a bottle of lube had never been so difficult, or quite so frightening.

His heart clenched when he saw the photos splayed beneath the item he unthinkingly sent Merlin to get. _Bad memories_ , Merlin had said. Spurring into action, Arthur grabbed the lube and slammed the drawer shut. Merlin let his hand fall limply away, and blinked a few times before finally turning to look at Arthur.

“S-Sorry, I…I don’t know what…” Merlin shook his head, trying to find the words, but ended up just staring apologetically at Arthur when they wouldn’t come.

Arthur had never been the best with words himself, especially those that were meant to comfort. He kissed Merlin’s cheek and offered a reassuring smile. “It’s alright.”

“Did I…did I frighten you?”

Arthur’s smile faltered. It wasn’t Merlin he had heard screaming. The sound had been inhuman, certainly like nothing Merlin’s lungs could produce. And yet Merlin was asking if he’d frightened him, when he had no reason to.

Arthur shook his head. “It was my fault. I should have remembered what those photos mean to you. I should have known you’d react that—”

“You have no idea what they mean to me, Arthur,” Merlin said with surprising firmness. He seemed to have surprised himself as well because he drew back and instantly looked apologetic again.

“Merlin—”

Merlin took the bottle of lube from Arthur’s loose grasp. “Here, let’s just…you _are_ frightened, even if I’m not the one to have caused it. And you’re cold, I know you are.” He set the bottle on top of the nightstand and Arthur realised he was indeed shivering, partly from the chill, partly from the residual shock of the bone-shattering scream.

Arthur also had to admit that the mood was effectively ruined. His cock had gone limp as soon as the screaming had started, and he wasn’t sure if he could quite get himself back into the mindset.

And then his stomach rumbled, reminding him that if he’d been getting peckish before, he was absolutely starving now.

The room was quiet enough that Merlin heard it. “Stay here and warm up,” Merlin urged him, pulling at the duvet. “I’ll make lunch.”

Arthur relished the thought of having a lie down, his limbs and joints seeming to feel the work of the morning all at once. He suspected the recent scare and fading adrenaline rush had something to do with it. But he also saw what Merlin was doing.

“You don’t have to make anything up to me, Merlin,” he said as Merlin handed him his pants. “You certainly don’t have to tuck me in and make me lunch. I’m perfectly capable, you know.”

Merlin stopped with his jeans halfway up his legs and tilted his head to the side. He looked puzzled, as though Arthur’s words didn’t make sense.

“Oh,” he said finally, eyes widening, and finished pulling up his jeans. “Yes I do. I absolutely have to make this—”

“Wait a minute. That wasn’t it, was it?” Arthur asked. His brain pieced together parts of a previous conversation he assumed wasn’t relevant anymore. “You still think this is a bad idea, don’t you? You have no intent to pick up where we left off after lunch, do you?”

Merlin sighed and his body sagged, as if he was tired. “Look, Arthur—”

“I told you I’m fine with not going out!” Arthur insisted a bit angrily. “And I’m really starting to think there’s more to your reluctance than just wanting to avoid potential pain or whatever down the road. There might be some poor sod out there that really is that cautious, but that’s not you at all.”

Arthur hadn’t realised he walked forward until he was close enough to see himself reflected in Merlin’s pupils. Merlin looked a little frightened as well, not too much, but enough to be wary. All of a sudden, another fragment of conversation came back to him.

“What were you going to tell me before?” he demanded. “When you said we shouldn’t, that I didn’t know something. What don’t I know, Merlin?”

Merlin took a step back, swallowing. Arthur’s stomach growled again but he ignored it.

“I lied to you.”

Arthur froze. Which wasn’t too difficult considering the temperature seemed to drop another ten degrees.

“About what?”

“The house. There was no…It’s my house. I used to live here. I was the previous owner.”

Arthur frowned. Why would Merlin lie about something like that? Why would that lie make Merlin think Arthur didn’t still want him?

“Then who did you make tea for? Why did you move out? Why didn’t you say—”

Merlin lowered his eyes and shook his head. “I didn’t make tea for anyone. That’s just you,” he said with a sad smile. “I only wanted an excuse for you to let me stay, and tea seemed the easiest.”

Under any other circumstance, Arthur would have mocked him, but the time didn’t seem appropriate. And he had to find out the rest of the facts. If he was going to try to be with Merlin—and despite the fact that Merlin had lied, Arthur found himself still wanting him in more ways than one—he had to have all the facts.

“So why’d you move out?” Arthur asked. “Could you not afford it anymore?” It wouldn’t be illogical for that to be the case. If Merlin really had been a writer and books had simply stopped selling…

Merlin didn’t answer right away. He looked more solemn than Arthur had ever seen him. The expression looked out of place on someone who was meant to smile.

“Yeah. I couldn’t afford it anymore. Will was great and let me move in with him. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought it’d be weird.”

“Weirder than you inviting yourself over to make tea?” Arthur countered. _Weirder than freaking out over a couple of photos?_

“I suppose I might have also been a little ashamed,” Merlin admitted sheepishly.

Arthur rolled his eyes, letting himself relax now that he had a clearer picture of the situation. “I’m just as aware as anyone that writing isn’t exactly a glamorous job. So what if you couldn’t afford living on your own? That’s hardly anything to be ashamed of.” He put a tentative hand on Merlin’s arm. “Look, Merlin. If that’s…if that’s all, then there’s no reason why we shouldn’t at least try to make this work.”

Part of Merlin’s bottom lip disappeared under the top as he pondered. Arthur waited eagerly for Merlin’s answer, even as he shivered and his breath fogged up the air between them. He could see that the longer Merlin thought the more his resolve crumbled. He wished Merlin would simply give in already so he could embrace him and they could put all this behind them.

Finally, Merlin raised sorrowful eyes and sighed. “I really shouldn’t. I’m no good for you, Arthur.”

“Let me decide for myself. If you’re a good enough friend, why wouldn’t you be a good enough lover?”

Merlin frowned and brought his hand up between them. Arthur was about to ask what he was doing when Merlin’s palm pressed to his chest. Merlin ran his hand from the middle all the way up to Arthur’s shoulder, and back down again. Arthur could see the want clear in Merlin’s eyes, could feel the way his fingertips longed to press just a little harder.

“This is so wrong,” Merlin said quietly. “It’ll never work between us. But I want to try anyways. How stupid is that?”

Arthur wrapped his fingers around Merlin’s wrist, stilling the probing hand’s circuit. “It’s not stupid at all. And it _will_ work. I promise.”

Merlin seemed to have something to say about that, but didn’t. He sighed again and pulled his hand back. “Fine. Now will you let me go make you something to eat or are you going to continue starving yourself?”

Arthur cocked an amused eyebrow. “Dunno why you’d think you’re no good for me. A servant I can have sex with is all I’d ever want in a partner.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and shoved Arthur’s shoulder. “You’re a prat. Put some clothes on before you freeze to death.”

Arthur shoved him back and waited until Merlin left the room to really let himself smile.

***

“So. George, huh?” Arthur said, smirking from the dining table.

Merlin rolled his eyes from where he sat on the sofa. “It’s the first name I could think of.”

“And the library? It was yours, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Arthur nodded then worked at his pasta a few minutes before asking, ”Aren’t you going to eat?”

Merlin turned his head away from the telly. “Huh?”

Arthur repeated himself. “Aren’t you going to eat anything? You’ve got to be just as hungry as I am.” Merlin may not have lugged boxes up and down the stairs but it had been long enough for anyone to start feeling pangs of hunger.

Merlin, however, shrugged. “No, I’m good, thanks.”

“Seriously? I haven’t once seen you eat, and if you were any thinner you’d be a cor—”

“I’m not hungry!” Merlin snapped. “Just leave it, okay?”

Arthur didn’t comprehend at first. It felt like his world had turned upside down. The only time Merlin had yelled was when Arthur had told him about what Uther had done. Maybe Arthur had only know him a little over a week, but he knew enough to realise Merlin just did not get so angry over something so trivial.

However, there was no mistaking the tone or the frustrated tilt of his brows. Arthur backtracked and tread carefully.

“Um, y-yeah, sure. Sorry.” He looked back to his food feeling more out of kilter than he had since his father took away his old life.

His food seemed tasteless now, though. Arthur ate mechanically, Merlin’s harsh voice echoing in his head. He just couldn’t put the two together. The man that made tea for no reason and smiled too easily simply couldn’t be the same man that pierced Arthur’s heart with a few words not even meant to be harmful.

Suddenly, Arthur felt a light touch on his shoulder. His heart lurched and he jumped.

“Hey,” Merlin said, his features soft and familiar again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t—”

“Please. I can tell you’re over here brooding because I snapped at you. I didn’t mean it. But if I ever need anything—food included—I’ll let you know.”

Merlin’s hand kneaded Arthur’s shoulder and his smile was so bright, Arthur had no choice but to swallow his tongue and nod.

“Alright.”

“Brilliant. ‘Cause as ill-advised as I still think this whole thing is, I actually am quite eager to finish what we started. I feel terrible for ruining everything before.”

Arthur felt slim fingers crawl up his neck and into his hair and it sent all the blood rushing south. He temporarily forgot how to breathe, let alone move.

Merlin chuckled and bent to whisper in his ear. “That means hurry up and finish eating, Arthur.”

Arthur attacked the pasta noodles on his plate like a madman.

By the time Arthur finally got around to the last bite, Merlin was on the sofa with his knee bouncing up and down again. Arthur left his empty plate on the table and all but ran to join him.

Merlin laughed and backed away when Arthur leaned in to kiss him. “Wait a bit, will you? You’ve had no time to digest.”

Arthur growled and went for Merlin’s exposed neck instead. “It’s not like I’m about to go swimming, Merlin,” he complained. “And I won’t be the one doing all the tiresome thrusting if what I have in mind comes to pass.”

“Oh _God_ ,” Merlin gasped, and his hands clenched in a tight fist above his knees, which Arthur was amused to note stopped bouncing. He smiled victoriously before taking Merlin by surprise and turning him to kiss him full on the lips.

His heart did somersaults when Merlin reacted by shifting his weight and swinging a leg over Arthur’s hips. Arthur kept their lips connected with hands on either side of Merlin’s face and moaned filthily when Merlin ground into him. He could tell right away his words had had a pleasant effect.

But when Merlin pulled back and looked at him in bewilderment, Arthur’s heartbeat stuttered.

“What?” he asked breathlessly, hands twisting the fabric of Merlin’s shirt. “What is it, why are you looking at me like that?”

“I can taste you,” Merlin replied in complete awe. “God, I can taste the noodles, the herbs—”

“Is it bad? Should I go brush my teeth?” Arthur hadn’t even thought of how his having eaten might affect the situation.

Merlin thumbed the side of Arthur’s face, and shook his head, smiling. “No, it’s…I like it. You taste good.”

“Don’t you dare tell me you’re hungry now,” Arthur teased as he lowered his hands to the swell of Merlin’s arse.

Merlin chuckled and pushed his arse out more so Arthur’s hands would grab tighter, the wanton thing. “No. You’re more than enough,” he said cheekily, before diving back in for Arthur’s tongue. Arthur happily gave it to him.

Merlin seemed intent on tasting every crevice inside Arthur’s mouth because he explored and plundered like a man on a mission. Arthur felt the kiss spiralling into something desperate and messy and quickly realised the need to rid Merlin of his clothes.

 _Buttons_ were in the way though, and Merlin certainly wasn’t going to give up his hold on Arthur’s mouth just so Arthur could look down and fumble with them. Arthur did the only logical thing he could think of: he ripped the shirt open.

The tear of fabric was strangely satisfying, Merlin’s half growl half moan that accompanied it even better. Arthur pulled at the stretched garment in his hands harder, ripping it apart all the more until it finally fell off Merlin’s frame and landed on the floor.

Arthur ran his hands up Merlin’s back, up the notches in Merlin’s protruding spine, simultaneously hugging him closer. The shift in weight added pressure onto Arthur’s cock and he groaned at the teasing sensation.

“Enough,” Arthur panted, finally pulling away. “Bed. Now.”

Merlin pouted and looked like he was very much contemplating disagreement. Arthur let his hands dip below the waistline of Merlin’s jeans, into the space between pants and skin, and that decided Merlin quickly. He jumped off and all but dragged Arthur up the stairs, complaining when Arthur slowed down to remove his own shirt.

Finally, clothes shed, they crashed onto the bed. Even at that point, Merlin hadn’t tired of kissing. Arthur wanted to beg; his body was so tightly strung with need that he was shaking. But somehow he managed to bottle his desire and allow Merlin to indulge.

Merlin, however, seemed to know the extent of Arthur’s need anyways. He grabbed Arthur’s arse and wrenched the pert cheeks apart as Arthur lay over him. Arthur’s rhythm faltered.

“Christ, Arthur,” Merlin said between kisses. “You really do love taking it, don’t you?”

He had that insolent spark in his eye that Arthur punished with a roll of his hips and had their cocks sliding together. Just as Merlin gasped and moved to mirror the action, Arthur slipped away and quickly retrieved the lube from the nightstand. He pressed it into Merlin’s hands.

“Stop talking, Merlin,” he said with a level stare.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Merlin replied with a wicked smile and turned Arthur over. Arthur didn’t bother responding if it meant things got hurried along.

Arthur spread his knees wide apart and propped himself up on his forearms, Merlin’s index finger rubbing circles expertly around his puckered rim. Arthur pressed his forehead against the soft duvet and took deep, relaxing breaths.

Arthur failed to hold back a moan when Merlin inserted a third finger a little while later. He was shaking so badly now he could hardly hold himself up. His cock hung heavily beneath him, tantalisingly close to the mattress. If he wasn’t so inherently proud, he would have rocked forward the final distance to brush against it for friction and rocked back onto Merlin’s fingers. As it was, Arthur had _some_ dignity.

Still, he had to focus on the sound of classical music still playing in the other room to keep himself from snapping at Merlin to hurry up.

“Arthur,” Merlin said hoarsely. “Condom?”

“In the—” Arthur stopped. It was in the nightstand. “Right. I’ll get it.”

Merlin’s fingers slipping tragically from his arse, Arthur turned and crawled over to get the packet. He was about to rip it open when Merlin took it deftly from him.

“I’ve got it,” he said, caressing Arthur’s side. “Lay down, yeah?”

Arthur swallowed and nodded. He turned over on his stomach and placed his chin on folded arms, waiting. He listened intently to the wet sounds behind him, seeing what was taking place in his mind’s eye. When Merlin’s still slick, cold fingers touched Arthur’s hip, urging him to rise, Arthur lifted himself up and spread himself wide in offering. He had to fight not to push back too quickly.

“Fuck,” Merlin breathed as his cock cleared the stubborn ring of muscle. Arthur exhaled and inhaled slowly, letting himself get used to the strange yet wonderful sensation of being penetrated.

One of Merlin’s hands stayed lodged on Arthur’s hip, the fingernails scratching lightly over the skin stretched taut over bone. The other hand, however, explored every area of skin Merlin could reach. It caressed down Arthur’s back, over his shoulder and down his arm, up his stomach to his chest, back down to his navel where it brushed his cock. Arthur focused on Merlin’s caring touch whenever the pain spiked a little as Merlin pushed deeper, stretched wider.

And then Merlin was there, completely sheathed and panting against the back of Arthur’s neck. Arthur realised he was sweating and Merlin’s weight pushing him down onto the duvet wasn’t helping cool him down. He pushed up a bit, moaning when Merlin’s cock moved inside him, and rolled until they were both partially on their sides. Merlin’s hand came up and brushed damp hair off of Arthur’s forehead before coming back down to his hip.

“Better?” Merlin asked gruffly.

“Yeah. Just needed some air.” He reached back and put a hand on Merlin’s thigh. “Come on, fuck me.”

It was really a statement in itself that Merlin didn’t come back with a cheeky retort. He simply licked his lips and set to it, sliding nearly completely out so he could push back in. He started slow, and Arthur rocked with him, getting into the rhythm. It was an easy give and take, Merlin’s cock feeding Arthur’s arse what it had been craving practically since Arthur first laid eyes on him.

Merlin fucked just like Arthur thought he would. For all his smiles and jokes and boyishness, Merlin fucked slow and passionate, every bit like a man. He held Arthur close with an arm across his chest, stroked Arthur’s cock where it bobbed sideways as they rocked. Arthur clutched Merlin’s thigh all the while, using it as both an anchor and a way to reciprocate affection.

Arthur felt his limbs turn to liquid fire. His heart pumped warmth through his veins and he felt like he was soaring. He let his head fall forward only for strong fingers to pull it back up by the roots of his hair. Merlin’s breath danced across his face and down his neck, in his ear and seemingly into the very core of his body. Arthur’s world became Merlin’s cock, Merlin’s breathing, Merlin’s hands holding him like he was a prize possession.

Arthur wanted this to last, but too soon it built into something far more wild and desperate. Merlin didn’t rock; he thrust, he _pounded_ into Arthur, faster and harder until the sounds of their skin slapping made Arthur blush from how obscene it was. Merlin’s hand on his cock squeezed a little tighter, determined to wring out his orgasm. It felt so utterly brilliant that Arthur forgot to care how filthy his open-mouthed moaning sounded.

He was dimly aware that his right arm was falling asleep where it was pinned beneath his side, but Merlin’s cock sliding in and out, occasionally hitting the perfect spot and turning his moan into a shout, pushed that to the back of his mind. His climax was pooling in his groin, making everything blurry and soft, and he was climbing even higher with Merlin right beside him, preparing to be pushed over onto the other side.

The arm that was across Arthur’s chest moved until one hand came up and cupped his face, four fingers squeezing his cheek while a thumb rubbed the line of his jaw. Merlin’s other hand left Arthur’s cock and drifted lower, where Merlin took a firm hold and rolled Arthur’s drawn-up balls in his palm. It was what finally pushed Arthur over the edge.

His body tensed and his arse clenched around Merlin’s cock as he spurted semen over both himself and the duvet. Merlin gasped for breath as he thrust the final few times, coming apart himself, and his hand held Arthur’s face so tight Arthur was sure there’d be fingerprints. If Merlin’s hand had been any lower, he’d have been choking.

When Arthur came down, it was like crash landing. He felt boneless and lethargic, not to mention sweaty and out of breath. He rolled onto his stomach and subsequently pulled Merlin from him, feeling deeply satisfied and pleasantly empty.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” Merlin remarked breathlessly. Arthur lolled his head to the side and saw Merlin staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling, his chest heaving with each inhale and exhale.

Arthur mustered the energy to smile. “Yeah.”

The last thing Arthur saw before deciding to close his eyes—just for a minute—was Merlin smiling back at him.

***

Arthur awoke with a start, his eyes snapping open. It was dark outside, and he was once again plagued with a sense of incredible dread. Despite the brilliant afternoon he’d had, something wasn’t right.

Looking at the clock, he saw it was 3:31 in the morning. Merlin was nowhere to be seen, though he seemed to have tucked Arthur in before he left, and even graced him with an extra blanket. It only added to his feeling of unease, even if Merlin could have had a perfectly good reason for taking off.

Suddenly, Arthur became aware of loud, heavy footsteps coming from above. He stopped breathing, not believing what he was hearing at first. The longer he listened, the more certain he was. Someone was pacing in the loft. In the middle of the night.

Arthur threw back the duvet, the shock of cold air like blades against his skin, and put on the first pair of joggers he could find before rushing into the corridor.

He paused again, not wanting to be taken for a fool in his own home. The ladder to the loft was up, the string to pull it down dangling in front of his face as if to mock him. But the steady _thump-slide-thump-slide_ of footsteps overhead was all too clear. Either Arthur was going mad or someone—something—managed to pull the ladder up. And, to make things even more confusing, they’d done it silently.

Arthur tilted his head back and stared up. If he looked close enough, he could make out dim light coming through the cracks in the ceiling. There was absolutely no denying it: somebody was in the loft.

Steeling himself for the worst, Arthur reached up and grabbed hold of the string. He gave it a tug, testing it, then slowly pulled down, the creaking of the metal joints piercing the cold silence.

A sudden noise in the loo made Arthur release the string all at once and he jumped. The clap of the ceiling-door was grating on his ears and dust fell like innocent snowflakes to the floor.

The noise that startled him turned out to be the shower. Reminded of an earlier night when the same sound turned out to be nothing at all, Arthur stormed across the hall and threw the door open, flicking the light switch angrily.

A choked cry of horror escaped his throat as Arthur refused to believe what he was seeing. The shower was not dry and impeccably clean as he’d expected it to be, but dripping with deep crimson, staining the white tile and sliding glass door with what Arthur knew in his gut to be blood. It gushed from the shower-head in high pressure streams and Arthur found he couldn’t look away.

He was drawn closer, as though being reeled in, and felt his stomach clench when he saw it wasn’t only the shower-head, but the crooked spout that spewed blood as well. Already the tub was half-filled with the crimson liquid, and steadily rising. As if that weren’t bad enough, Arthur could almost make out something solid beneath the surface, something large, black, and human-shaped.

Arthur gagged and squeezed his eyes shut as he turned abruptly away. He was tense with revulsion and the sight seemed to be burned onto the inside of his eyelids. He couldn’t stay in the loo—in the _house_ —a second longer. Arthur felt as though he were locked in an oversize icebox.

Upon opening his eyes, Arthur cried out again at seeing someone standing in the doorway, his stomach alighting with butterflies before he calmed down and realised it was only Merlin. Beautiful, wonderful Merlin with his pale sloping neck and plump pink lips, tender blue eyes and messy black hair. He was dressed as usual, in his grey jeans and black button-down shirt. The same shirt Arthur was almost certain he had ripped earlier.

Now, however, Merlin looked at Arthur with a haunted, blank expression, his head tilted curiously to one side as it did whenever he was puzzled. He blinked once, twice, looked beyond Arthur to the shower and back again before raising a questioning eyebrow.

Arthur crossed the small space between them and took Merlin’s hand in his own. “Merlin, there was—Look!”

He turned and pointed but the tile and glass was clear and clean. It was as if Arthur had imagined it all…His heart sank and the same feeling of unease from before seemed to crush him with its weight.

“There was…I know there was…”

Merlin pulled Arthur out of the room and into the hall, reaching just beyond the doorway to turn out the light behind him. “Let’s go back to bed, Arthur. You have work tomorrow,” he said gently.

“But…” Arthur halted as they passed under the entrance to the loft, forcing Merlin to stop, too. “There was someone in the loft. I heard footsteps. It woke me up.”

Merlin sighed. “Come on, Arthur.” He tugged at Arthur’s hand but Arthur insisted.

“There _was_. I know there was! And I’m not going back to bed until I at least have a look.”

Even in the dark, Arthur could see the whites of Merlin’s eyes roll. “Fine. Go ahead.”

Arthur released Merlin’s hold and raised his hand to pull the ladder down. He frowned when the door revealed nothing but a rectangle of pitch darkness. He was positive the light had been on.

With another glance at an obviously sceptical Merlin, Arthur unfolded the ladder and began to ascend. He yanked the string to turn on the light and was momentarily blinded. He scanned the dusty area for half a minute before he heard an exasperated sigh from Merlin below.

 _There’s no way_ , Arthur thought. _There were footsteps. There was light._

_There was blood._

Suddenly yearning the safety of his bed and Merlin’s arms, Arthur turned out the light and scrambled off the ladder. “Alright, I guess I might have been mistaken,” he said.

“It could have been a dream?” Merlin suggested as he entwined his fingers with Arthur’s and led him to the bedroom.

“Maybe,” Arthur replied, though he didn’t believe it for a second. He wanted to pursue the matter further but he was starting to shiver again and his bed looked so inviting. It would be nice to simply fall back asleep and forget this until morning. He reluctantly allowed Merlin to pull him into bed.

“Here we are,” Merlin said as he wrapped the duvet over their bodies. “Nice and snug, yeah?”

Arthur melted into the mattress with a sigh and it seemed to take an extreme amount of effort to keep his eyes open. “Yeah.” He wriggled until he was as close to Merlin as comfort would allow.

Merlin chuckled and Arthur’s cheek felt the vibration from deep in Merlin’s chest. “Never would have guessed you fancied cuddling.”

Arthur let his eyes close and smiled a little. “Only when it’s cold and dark,” he mumbled into Merlin’s shirt. He wrinkled his nose. “You’re still wearing your day clothes. What a weirdo.”

Merlin laughed again but otherwise ignored the comment. “Are you afraid of the dark too, Arthur?”

Arthur exhaled and rubbed his nose in Merlin’s chest. He wished Merlin would shut up and let him sleep. “Sometimes, I guess. One night I woke up and thought someone was here with me. I was scared then.”

Arthur felt Merlin’s hand stroke his hair. _This is nice_ , he thought. _I wish it could always be like this. I hope he doesn’t still think this is a bad idea._

“I’m sorry.”

“What have you got to be sorry for?” Arthur asked.

“That you feel afraid in a house that I once owned. I never felt that way when I lived here.”

“That doesn’t make it your fault, Merlin. Now shut up so I can get some rest. You’re the one that so helpfully pointed out I have to work tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Merlin said, and Arthur could hear the smile in his voice.

Arthur sighed and squirmed a little more until he was finally in a position he deemed Maximum Comfort. He tried to forget all about the heavy pacing footsteps in the loft and the disturbing shower of blood. However, in doing so, the sights and sounds plagued his mind and he buried his face deeper into Merlin’s chest in a futile attempt to hold them at bay.

Finally, Arthur decided he’d focus on something else to take his mind off the incidents of the night. He slowed his breathing and listened for the sound of Merlin’s heartbeat.

The only problem was, he couldn’t quite find it.

***

Merlin did not, in fact, change his mind and decide the relationship to be a bad idea. The first few days, it was a constant worry in the back of Arthur’s mind, and he found himself clinging shamelessly to Merlin every time he came over. But after the first couple of weeks, Arthur relaxed, realising Merlin meant to make good on his word to give them a try.

To keep Morgana from showing up or calling with more threats, Arthur finally got around to installing a landline. He called his sister the minute he had it working, and talked to her the better part of an hour. After all the weird things that had happened in the house and the boring routine of working at a book shop, Arthur was surprised when conversing with her turned out to be pleasant for once. She was the sole connection to his past life in the city, and though he missed it at times, he was actually quite happy to have left it behind.

And, of course, because she was practically psychic when it came to him, she managed to figure out he’d been seeing someone. “Tell me his name,” she sang through the sound waves.

Arthur rolled his eyes and huffed, but gave in. “His name is Merlin.”

“Merlin,” she repeated slowly, testing the name. “Doesn’t that just roll off the tongue? _Merlin_.”

Arthur groaned into his hand. “Oh God, Morgana, seriously?”

She just laughed, the insufferable harpy.

And so it came to be that after nearly a month living in Ealdor, Arthur had a steady job, a brilliant boyfriend, and a nice routine. Barring the creepy, ice cold house that frightened him to no end, Arthur was satisfied with how things had turned out. He couldn’t even stay mad at his father, considering it was his actions that led to such a pleasant turn of events.

Nothing strange had happened since the night Arthur had seen the blood in the shower. That is to say, nothing _particularly_ strange had happened. There were still nights Arthur woke up in a cold sweat with the inexplicable feeling of being watched, or heavy footsteps pacing back and forth in the loft that Arthur resolutely ignored and told himself weren’t there. There was still the ominous knight statuette at the bottom of the staircase, hollow and empty and following Arthur with eyes that must surely be present in the black depths of its helmet. And there were still many occurrences of Arthur hearing walking either upstairs or downstairs, or typing on a keyboard when all else was silent. There were even a few times Arthur thought for sure he saw shadows move (though this he didn’t put much stock in, and pinned it as an overactive imagination).

Arthur had gotten so used to his unusual house that it became the usual, and therefore the day something finally did go terribly wrong, he cursed himself above anyone else. He really should have paid more attention: Why was Will the only neighbour he saw? Why had nobody else bothered to even shake his hand or welcome him to the neighbourhood? Why were there whispers about his house and the person that lived there before?

How could Arthur not notice?

Arthur was organising books in the back of the shop one morning when he happened upon one with Merlin’s name on it. He smiled when he saw it. Just a couple hours before, the author of the book himself had served Arthur his customary morning tea and snogged him breathless on the sofa. Now Arthur held one of the man’s very own published works in his hands.

The title was “Freya’s Lake,” and based on the summary, it was about a girl that lived at the bottom of a lake and how her home was being threatened by pollution. Arthur shelved it into place on the new bookcases that had come in and made a mental note to come back to it at the end of the day when he had time.

Later, just as Arthur was contemplating asking Gaius for an early lunch break, Gaius shuffled into the back room, announcing his presence with a hacking cough. Arthur waited until the old man’s body settled down to say something.

“I was thinking about taking an early lunch,” he said as Gaius sunk onto a bench. “Did you want me to get you something? Sounds like you could use some tea.”

Arthur smiled when he thought of Merlin as a book shop waiter, serving customer and employee alike as they browsed or worked. It was a silly idea that he could easily see Merlin doing, with an equally silly grin on his face.

Gaius cleared his throat and Arthur came back to reality. “No, thank you. I’m afraid tea is no cure for old age. Though the thought is certainly appreciated. Go on and have lunch if you wish.”

Arthur shrugged. “Alright. But if you change your mind, you can call me.” He was halfway to the exit when he stopped and turned on his heel. “You wouldn’t happen to have any more of those Merlin Emrys novels, would you?”

Gaius frowned. “I have boxes upon boxes of them in the storeroom. They didn’t sell very well, I’m afraid, and I don’t think they will, to be quite honest.”

Arthur bristled. Was Gaius calling Merlin a bad writer? Arthur thought these small town people were supposed to show support for one another. He hadn’t thought Gaius could be so…so petty!

“And why do you think that?” he asked tightly.

“Well, because nobody wants to buy anything written by someone who was so dear to the town. It’s a sad reminder, no matter how well-written it may be.”

Arthur was lost. “I don’t understand.”

Gaius sighed. “Emrys lived right here in Ealdor. Worked in this very shop, in fact. Everyone here loved him. So when he died, the town was heartbroken.”

Arthur’s heart stopped. Gaius spoke on but Arthur was numb to the words. He didn’t hear anything but the old man’s voice echoing _so when he died_

_so when he died, so when he died, so when he died_

_died_

_he died_

Arthur couldn’t breathe. He saw the world tilt from side to side, swaying uneasily this way and that, until he felt warm hands on him, holding him up.

“Arthur? Arthur?” Gaius’s voice tried calling out to him.

Arthur blinked. He still felt dizzy and short of breath, but he realised he had to calm down if he wanted to make any sense of this.

“What do you mean?” he began. “What do you mean Merlin died?” God, just the two words together made Arthur feel sick.

Gaius looked at Arthur sympathetically. “About four years ago, Merlin Emrys had an accident in his shower. He was apparently very drunk and slipped and hit his head.” Gaius lowered his eyes, showing Arthur just how painful the memories were for him as well. “He was such a good lad. He never went to parties, rarely even stopped writing to leave the house. But he left that night, and well…” Gaius didn’t continue, finishing his statement with a sombre shake of his head.

Arthur refused to believe it. Gaius was old. He had to be mistaken.

“Gaius, I think you’re confusing Merlin with someone else,” he said politely. “Merlin isn’t…Merlin isn’t dead. I’ve seen him. He lives next door to me, with Will.”

Gaius raised an eyebrow. “Will was his best friend and lived next door, that is true, but I’m afraid Merlin is most certainly gone.”

“No!” Arthur yelled before he could stop himself. At Gaius’s look of shock, he paused, took a deep breath, and started again. “No. You’re…you’re wrong, Gaius. I’ve seen Merlin every day since I’ve been living here. I’m going out with him, for Christ’s sake!”

“You’re going out with him?” Gaius echoed sceptically.

“Well, we’re not ‘going out’ because Merlin doesn’t like to—”

_He doesn’t like to leave the house._

“Arthur?”

Arthur shook his head. “It’s not just me. Will talks to him, too.”

Gaius stepped back and pursed his lips in thought. Arthur waited, shifting his weight impatiently from one foot to the other.

“You said Will lives next door to you? That means you currently reside in Merlin’s old house?” Gaius asked, his eyebrow shooting even higher.

“Yes…”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Didn’t think _what_ was possible?”

“Merlin is dead, but perhaps he isn’t exactly gone,” Gaius said, seemingly to no one but himself.

Arthur felt frustrated. He felt insulted and foolish and frankly, he was beginning to lose respect for the old man. Above all, he felt an incredible longing for Merlin’s reassuring presence.

Gaius seemed to know this. He waved for Arthur to follow and led him back to the newspaper archives. Finding a certain issue from four years ago was not at all a challenge. It was apparently a black day in the town’s history; the loss of a great up and coming young writer had been a day that would never be forgotten.

Merlin’s obituary was below a black and white photograph of Merlin smiling. He died from a serious head injury caused by a tub spout at approximately 3:30 in the morning on the 24th of December.

 _It’s not possible_ , Arthur thought. _He’s made me tea every morning. I’ve kissed him, I’ve_ fucked _him! It’s just not possible!_

_—so when he died—_

“…think I have some books on lingering souls—”

The cry that came from deep in Arthur’s chest couldn’t possibly belong to him, yet it was that noise which interrupted whatever Gaius was saying about books on lingering souls. Arthur felt dizzy again and propped himself up weakly against the nearest bookcase. This was too much.

“I…I need to go home,” Arthur muttered. “I can’t…” _Deal with this_ , Arthur mentally finished. _I can’t deal with this. I need Merlin._

Gaius put a supportive hand on Arthur’s arm as Arthur turned to leave. “Are you able to drive?” he asked.

Arthur blinked. He ignored Gaius’s worried expression and walked out of the shop in a daze. He unlocked his car, started the ignition, and drove home mechanically.

He only snapped out of it when he saw Will walking out the door of his own shabby house. Arthur jumped out of the auto and ran up to the young man fiercely.

“Arthur?” Will gaped when Arthur’s hands grabbed his arms. “What the hell!”

“Why doesn’t Merlin leave the house?”

“Wh-What? Arthur, mate, calm—”

“Merlin! Why doesn’t he like to go out?” Arthur yelled, shaking Will roughly.

“He’s a private bloke! I dunno, ask him!”

“If anything was wrong with him, you’d tell me right?”

“Arthur, you need to let go of me,” Will said, struggling to get free. “Calm down and tell me what’s going on.”

Arthur released his grip and stepped back. It was _Merlin_ they were talking about, and though Arthur never seemed to be in his right mind when it came to him, he realised he’d get nowhere if he didn’t start from the beginning.

“I found one of Merlin’s books in the shop. I talked to Gaius about it and he said—he said—”

“Oh.”

“It’s true, then?” Arthur said, his chest feeling like it was imploding. “Merlin is—He’s a—”

“Dead,” Will finished with a solemn nod. “Yeah.”

“That’s impossible!”

“Oh, come _on_ , Arthur.” Will, incongruously, rolled his eyes at the situation. “Your house is bloody _freezing_ , Merlin never leaves, and don’t tell me you haven’t seen the shower.”

Arthur froze as the haunting memories of _that night_ flooded his mind. “What about the shower?”

Will sighed. “Okay, maybe you haven’t seen it. But sometimes, late at night, flickers of what happened sort of come back. It’s like the house has memories or something, I dunno. So sometimes you can hear the shower when nobody’s in there, or there’ll be blood dripping from the spout from where Merlin’s head hit it.”

_Like the house has memories?_

“And for a ghost, Merlin isn’t at all subtle,” Will continued. “He’ll walk around like the house is still his—though I guess, in a way, it sort of is—so even though you can’t _see_ him, he’s still _there_ , and you can still hear him. Once I even heard him typing away at some phantom keyboard, like he was still writing. Poor bloke.” Will sighed again.

Arthur blinked. He couldn’t believe it. But…what Will was saying confirmed everything Arthur had experienced as well.

“Look, believe me if you want to, or don’t if you’d rather go on ignorantly fucking your ghost boyfriend. Either way, I’m about to be late. It’s been a real pleasure, Arthur. See you around.” With that, Will gave Arthur a friendly pat on the shoulder and took off.

There was only one thing left to do. Confront Merlin himself.

Swallowing, Arthur prepared himself for the worst as he approached his front door. If Merlin _was_ dead, what exactly did that mean? They were still together, still in a relationship. It wasn’t as though anything really changed, right?

Arthur fumbled with his keys and opened the door. He stepped out of the summer breeze into his icebox of a house and closed the door behind him.

“Merlin?”

There was no answer. Arthur leaned against the wood, listening closely to the creaking sounds of the building. After a few seconds, he heard typing.

Nearly knocking over the knight statuette in his haste, Arthur dashed up the stairs. He burst through the door of the study where his laptop sat on the desk. It was closed, the way Arthur never left it.

Arthur hesitantly entered the room. He rubbed his arms where goosebumps had broken out and sat in the chair in front of the computer. Reaching out to raise the screen, he saw his breath cloud the air.

As soon as Arthur had the screen halfway raised, something forcefully slammed it shut. Arthur jerked his hand back in surprise.

He had no time to ponder what happened because shortly afterward the front door opened and shut loudly downstairs. Arthur got to his feet and called out, “Merlin?”

Footsteps on the stairs. “Arthur? What are you doing home so early?”

Arthur walked into the hallway and saw Merlin just as he reached the top of the staircase. Upon seeing him, Merlin’s face became worried and he took Arthur’s hand.

“Are you alright? You look sick,” he asked.

Arthur looked at their joined hands. Even in the midst of everything, just Merlin’s thumb rubbing Arthur’s skin made Arthur’s heart skip with joy.

Merlin’s other hand came up to cradle Arthur’s face. “Arthur?”

Arthur pulled Merlin in by the waist and pressed their lips together. Merlin made a noise of surprise but easily accepted Arthur’s tongue when he pushed it inside his mouth. Arthur held him tightly, reassuring himself that this was real, that the past month hadn’t been an illusion.

Pulling away, Merlin laughed. “Does Gaius know you left early just to do that?”

Arthur breathed the scent of Merlin’s skin: Fruit. Apples.

He didn’t respond, instead buried his face deeper in Merlin’s neck. He placed his thumb against Merlin’s jugular vein, feeling for a pulse. There was none.

Arthur lowered his head to Merlin’s chest, pressing his ear to the firm breastbone, listening for a heartbeat.

“Arthur? What are you doing?” Merlin asked, voice slightly alarmed. “You’re starting to scare me. Is everything okay?”

There was no heartbeat.

Arthur straightened. “I saw one of your books in the shop today,” he finally said.

Merlin furrowed his brow. “Yeah, Gaius helped me out when I first started selling them. I’m sure he still has loads of them.”

“He said that…He told me that you died.” Arthur saw the exact moment his words registered in Merlin’s eyes. He held Merlin’s hand tighter. “I said that that couldn’t possibly be true. Because I see you every day. Isn’t that a strange thing for him to say?”

Merlin nodded slowly, wordlessly, his eyes big as saucers.

“Then he showed me a newspaper from four years ago. And there was a photo of you, with an obituary,” he continued. “Naturally, I was upset. I rushed right home.”

“Arthur—”

“And then I spoke to Will just a moment ago. He said it’s true. He said that you still live here. That you walk around even when nobody can see you.” Arthur gripped Merlin tighter, tight enough to hurt any normal human being. “And now everything is starting to make more sense. Because I haven’t once seen you leave the house, only heard the door open and close when I’m turned away or not looking. And when I’m alone at night feeling like someone is watching me, crawling into bed with me, that’s you, too. And when I hear someone _typing at my laptop_ —”

“Arthur!” Merlin struggled in vain to get free.

“I told you what I saw that night. I told you about the blood in the shower and the footsteps in the loft, and you said it was a dream. You lied to me!”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin cried, his face pinched in anguish. “I wanted to tell you. I’m sorry!”

“All I’ve done is love you, and you couldn’t even be completely honest with me.”

“I said in the beginning that I was no good for you,” Merlin argued. “I said that it would never work.”

“Merlin, you’re _dead_! I asked you to tell me the truth and you gave me some sob story about not being able to afford living here anymore. Why would you do that?”

Arthur’s heart broke a little when the first tears slid down Merlin’s face. “I…When you first moved in…I didn’t think I’d like you at all. This is my house and I didn’t want some posh city bloke coming in and ruining it,” Merlin began. “So I showed myself to you to try to get to know you. And even though you were a prat at first, you turned out to be okay.”

Arthur loosened his grip a little, but still didn’t let Merlin go.

Merlin took this as a good sign and swallowed before continuing. “I thought we could be friends. You didn’t have to know I actually still lived here. But then you went to the loft. I tried to keep you away from my things—”

“The box,” Arthur interrupted. “You banged on the walls and screamed inside my head.”

Merlin cringed. “I…Yes, sorry about that. But it didn’t work. You still went through it. And I was all prepared to be upset, but then you…”

Arthur groaned. “You saw me get off to your photo.” Even that made sense now. The moving photograph, the air from the vent seeming to caress his skin… Arthur groaned again.

“Er, yeah.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, though,” Arthur said, trying to get back to the matter at hand. “Why did you lie about being dead?”

“What was I supposed to say? After finding out how you felt about me, you really think I wanted to ruin everything by telling you I was actually the ghost living in your loft?”

Arthur had to give him that. He also probably wouldn’t have believed Merlin. Now, however…After the strange events that had occurred over the past month, Arthur was almost able to readily accept any explanation.

“Alright, maybe you had a good reason for lying. That doesn’t mean I can just overlook this, though. I need time to think about where we should go from here.” Arthur finally let go of Merlin and turned to walk to his bedroom.

“Wait,” Merlin called after him. “What does that mean?”

Arthur pulled a bag out of his closet and began to stuff clothes inside. “It means what I said: I need time to think so I can get used to this whole thing. And I can’t very well do that _here_ , where you’ll be floating around night and day.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Just for a few days.”

“No!”

Arthur halted. “What?”

“No! You can’t! I—You can’t leave me here,” Merlin cried. “I’ll be alone.”

Arthur sighed. “Merlin, just give me some space to clear my head—”

“ _NO!_ ” Merlin’s voice shook the walls, and Arthur winced. “I’ve been in this empty house for _four years_. You can’t just come in here, make me fall in love with you, then wander off to ‘clear your head’ when things get tough!”

Arthur took a few steps back, but Merlin only followed him. “M-Merlin, I’ve just found out that every time I thought I was alone, I was actually here with you. I haven’t had a single moment to myself since I’ve moved in. I need some time to myself, not just for my peace of mind, but to figure out how the hell I’m going to have a dead boyfriend.”

Merlin’s eyes looked hurt but Arthur felt rather than saw the danger that lay beneath the surface. He tried stepping further back and was dismayed when he hit a wall. He was cornered.

“We’ll figure it out together,” Merlin said, coming closer. “Please don’t leave, Arthur. Please.”

“I…I have to, Merlin. I’m sorry.”

It was definitely time to get out before things got any worse. Drawing out a goodbye would make things harder. Arthur slipped past Merlin’s side, snatched up his half-packed bag, and ran for the stairs.

He was about to descend but froze when he saw Merlin standing between him and the bottom.

“Don’t do this, Arthur.”

“L-Look, Merlin, it’s only a few days. A week at the most.”

Arthur moved to go but arms grabbed his shirt from behind, holding him back. Merlin had moved from the bottom of the staircase to the top in the blink of an eye.

“ _Don’t leave me!_ ” a multitude of voices cried out in agony.

Arthur squirmed under Merlin’s hold but it seemed that a hundred arms were holding him in place. His bag was wrenched from his hand and it flew behind him, crashing into the door of the loo.

“Merlin,” Arthur gasped. “Merlin, let me go!”

“ _Stay here. Don’t leave, Arthur. STAY HERE_.”

Arthur felt like he was being wrapped from head to toe in chains. His heart hammered in his chest and he was starting to feel as though he couldn’t breathe. He panicked.

“Okay! Okay, fine, I’ll stay! Just let me go!” Arthur screamed.

All at once, his restraints fell away. It caught Arthur off-guard and he stumbled forward, toward the edge of the stairs. Flailing, Arthur reached out for something to stop his fall, but his hands grasped empty air. As he tumbled, there was a flash of pain in his arm, his knee, then finally his head.

And then there was darkness.

***

_It was Arthur’s loo but it wasn’t. The towels were different and it wasn’t his red toothbrush by the tap but a fancy green one instead. Arthur tried to move but his body wouldn’t listen. He could only stare straight from his place in the doorway, straight at the glass-encased showerbath._

_It was like being in a dream, like he was an unseen observer. One moment he was alone, paralysed in position, the next he heard the door open. It swung through him as if he wasn’t there, and soon after, a young, dark-haired man walked through him as well._

_It was Merlin. And he wasn’t walking so much as stumbling. He was obviously pissed, the smell of spirits rolling off of him in waves. Merlin must have smelled himself as well because after practically falling into the room he pinched his shirt up and sniffed the fabric loudly. His face contorted into an expression of disgust and he slammed the glass door of the shower open clumsily._

_As Merlin turned the water on, Arthur noticed the spout wasn’t tilted. It was properly oriented and the water came down straight. Then Merlin pulled up the knob and the water flow switched to the shower-head._

_There was a problem, though; Merlin was still dressed. Noticing this, Merlin’s shaky hands came up and attempted to undo the buttons of his shirt. It was the black button-down that he always wore. Failing miserably, he moved on to try his grey jeans instead. Merlin did manage to get those undone, but as he pulled them down to remove them, he lost his balance and fell headfirst into the shower._

_He hit his head on the side of the bathtub, but not too hard. He groaned as he sat up and grabbed the handle of the sliding door to try to stand. He nearly stood upright too, but slipped again and this time banged his head on the spout. The force of his fall dislodged it, tilting it about thirty degrees off its axis. There was blood dripping from it, and Merlin didn’t get up again._

***

The first thing Arthur was aware of after dreaming of Merlin’s death was Merlin himself. He heard Merlin crying softly, as if trying to be quiet about it, and felt Merlin’s arms cradling him. He momentarily contemplated keeping his eyes shut just to feel Merlin’s comfort a while longer, but that wouldn’t be fair to Merlin. It’d be best to let Merlin know he was alright as soon as possible.

Arthur lifted his eyelids slowly, warily, and was greeted by the sight of tears gushing from Merlin’s eyes. He took a moment to look around; he was at the bottom of the stairs, his head in Merlin’s lap, and for once, he wasn’t cold. He was a little sore, and the wood was stiff on his back, but he was otherwise comfortable.

“Merlin?” Arthur croaked, returned his gaze to Merlin.

Merlin’s wet eyes shot open and he cried out in relief. “Oh God, Arthur, I was so worried,” he sobbed, hugging Arthur tightly to his chest. “I’m sorry for—I can’t believe I acted so—”

“It’s okay, Merlin.”

“No, it’s not.” Merlin shook his head, a sorrowful expression on his face. “I was completely out of line. I freaked out and ended up hurting you. This is all my fault.” His voice broke on the final word and he started crying all over again.

Arthur raised his hand to Merlin’s face. He thought the action would be difficult, that after falling down steep wooden stairs, it would hurt to even breathe. But it felt only as if Arthur had exercised too long.

“I’m not hurt, Merlin. I remember a sharp pain at first, but it’s gone now. I’m alright. And I promise not to leave you.”

Arthur had been too frightened to refuse Merlin before, but now he really did feel no desire to leave. After witnessing Merlin’s tragedy practically firsthand, all he wanted was to curl up with him, to know that yes, Merlin was dead, but he was still here. Arthur was grateful for whatever force was responsible for keeping Merlin in this realm at all.

Merlin’s features softened and he ran shaky fingers through Arthur’s hair. Arthur lowered his hand to Merlin’s neck and pulled him forward. If Arthur’s words wouldn’t reassure Merlin that he wasn’t going anywhere, a kiss would.

Arthur parted from Merlin’s soft lips with a sigh. He felt content now. Maybe having a dead boyfriend wasn’t as difficult as Arthur thought it would be. Merlin never had to eat, so there was no need to worry about keeping him fed. He probably didn’t sleep either, so he would never get tired. The only problem Arthur could see arising was what would happen as he aged and Merlin stayed forever young.

That was years from now, though. For the moment, everything was fine. It was still _Merlin_.

Feeling the hard wooden floor all too acutely now, Arthur grunted and pushed himself up. He twisted his back left and right, cracking the joints in his spine. Then he turned to a wide-eyed Merlin.

“How long was I out?”

“About two hours,” Merlin replied. “Are you sure you feel alright? You hit your head pretty hard.”

Arthur looked at where they sat at the bottom of the stairs. Seeing the metal base of the knight statuette and raising a hand to feel a bump on the back of his head, Arthur did better recall what exactly had happened.

The first pain was his arm, which had felt like it had broken but now seemed only sore. The second was his leg—or was it his knee?—and that too was simply a dull ache. His head, though…That had been searing pain like no other, blurring his vision until he had blacked out and spiralled into darkness. Arthur winced as he poked the large bump on his skull, but if he didn’t prod it too much, it was only as bad as his other injuries.

“I think I’m fine,” Arthur said, mental inventory completed. “A bit of a headache, but nothing I can’t ignore until it goes away.”

Merlin stared like he didn’t quite believe it, and Arthur was touched by the concern. Reaching out for him, Arthur held Merlin’s hand and they helped each other to their feet.

“I suppose the day is mostly over by now,” Arthur remarked, noticing the fading light from the window. “Gaius probably doesn’t expect me back.” Remembering how he rushed out of there, Arthur corrected his statement. “Actually, he probably didn’t expect me either way.”

Merlin gaped. “You were actually considering going back to work? After that fall you just took?”

Arthur laughed. “I told you I feel fine, didn’t I? Come on, I want to watch something incredibly boring with my ghost boyfriend.” He pulled Merlin by the hand to the sofa and smiled deviously over his shoulder. “Then I want to kiss my ghost boyfriend, and then have amazing sex with my ghost boyfriend—”

Merlin rolled his eyes and allowed himself to be pulled halfway into Arthur’s lap on the loveseat. “You’re going to be insufferable about this, aren’t you?”

Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist and settled his chin on Merlin’s shoulder. He simply hummed and didn’t bother disagreeing.

Merlin sighed in mock exasperation before smiling. It made Arthur feel lighter seeing his face brighten even though his cheeks were still damp from crying. “Want to see something cool?”

Arthur raised a brow. “Sure.”

Merlin nodded at the television and the screen blinked on. He smiled triumphantly, caressing Arthur’s hands across his stomach.

Arthur was impressed, but refused to let it show. “Is that it, then? Can’t you do anything else?”

As soon as the words left Arthur’s mouth, Merlin disappeared, leaving Arthur with nothing but an armful of air. He bolted upright and called out Merlin’s name.

Seconds later, Merlin appeared on the sofa next to him. “Are you sure this doesn’t freak you out?” he asked, head tilted.

Arthur laughed and pulled Merlin back to him with a predatory grin. “I’m sure. It doesn’t _really_ change things, does it?”

“No,” Merlin replied warily. “But before—”

“I was confused. I’m not anymore.” Arthur reached for the remote and began clicking through channels while Merlin stretched out and put his feet up.

“Dare I ask what changed?”

Arthur paused. The dream from just minutes ago was still painfully fresh in his mind.

“When I hit my head and blacked out,” he began. “I had this dream. I saw you…I saw you die. You fell and—”

“Don’t go into details.”

Arthur felt Merlin stiffen beside him and stammered on. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Well, I saw you just lying there not moving and I felt…I felt like part of me was ripped out of my chest. So when I woke up and you were there, it just didn’t matter anymore _what_ you are. Dead or alive, you’re here and I don’t want to feel that hollow ache in my chest ever again.” Arthur cleared his throat and avoided Merlin’s gaze as he looked back to the telly. “So, um, that’s why I’m sure it doesn’t freak me out.”

Merlin was silent for so long that Arthur was worried he might have said the wrong thing, though how any of what he said could be wrong he had no idea. Finally, Arthur chanced a look in Merlin’s direction and saw—maybe—possibly—the hint of a smile across Merlin’s lips.

Biting back a smile himself, Arthur returned to the television. He stopped his circuit through the channels when he came to a film he’d seen before.

“A ghost film, Arthur? Really?” Merlin teased as he settled into Arthur’s side, lowering his head to Arthur’s shoulder.

“Why the hell not? It’s getting dark now and the mood is just right, don’t you think?” he teased right back.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Want me to go walk around upstairs, get you properly scared?” As if to make a point, the lights in the house started flickering on and off.

“Oh, ha bloody ha, Merlin. Would you quit and let’s watch this?”

Merlin mumbled something under his breath but quit playing with the lights.

“What was that?”

Merlin raised his voice. “I said you better suck my cock later!”

Arthur burst into guffaws.

***

The first time Arthur thought something was a bit unusual was later that night when he had made good on his word to suck Merlin off and proceeded to fuck Merlin into the mattress. Usually, Arthur would be exhausted after expending so much energy. And, considering he hadn’t actually had lunch, he should have been famished.

But as it happened, Arthur was nothing more than a little out of breath and ready to go again after a few minutes. He slicked his cock a little, lifted Merlin’s legs up, and shoved right back inside. Merlin seemed as—pleasantly—surprised as he was.

The second time Arthur suspected something wasn’t right was even later that night when he didn’t feel the least bit tired. Even on the best of nights, Arthur would nod off by two in the morning. But Arthur hadn’t once yawned. He felt as full of energy as ever. When he asked Merlin what it could mean, Merlin only shrugged and asked if he could use Arthur’s laptop.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Arthur knew for sure something was going on. He had taken off his clothes to change and put on a new outfit. But not ten seconds after pulling the shirt over his head, the clothes he had only just taken off were there again. In the blink of an eye, it was as if he’d never taken the time to change in the first place.

He tried half a dozen more times. He put socks on first one time, then his jeans another, or he’d put on only the shirt. Finally, as an experiment, he simply stood naked for three minutes. At least nothing happened then.

Frustrated, Arthur yelled. He slammed his fist against the wall and a second later, the light bulb in the bedside lamp exploded.

Suddenly, Merlin appeared at his side. “Arthur?”

Arthur made a guttural noise in his throat and held his head in his hands. “Something’s wrong, Merlin. I can’t…Ugh!” He kicked the side of the bed.

Merlin frowned and tentatively reached out to put a hand on Arthur’s hip. “Arthur. There’s something I have to tell you. And it’s not going to be easy.”

Arthur lowered his hands. “What?”

“Do you remember when you hit your head on the statue?”

“Yes…”

Merlin swallowed audibly. “Arthur, I—I didn’t know how to tell you. And it was all my fault, it still _is_ my fault—”

“What are you talking about?” Arthur’s hands trembled.

“I didn’t want you to blame me for it, so I thought I’d just buy a little time, show you how things work—”

“ _Merlin_!”

“Okay, okay, just…Take my hand.” Merlin moved his hand from Arthur’s side and Arthur hesitantly took hold. A second later they were in the loft.

And there, at their feet, lay Arthur’s corpse.

“Oh my God,” Arthur gasped, bringing his hand to his mouth.

The eyes were closed, at least, but there was no getting around the fact that the back of his skull was caved in and blood had dried on his forehead. Mesmerised, Arthur poked at the shoulder with his shoe. It was stiff as a board.

Emotions flooded into Arthur all at once. One minute he was perfectly alive and breathing—or so he thought—and the next he was staring at his own lifeless body. Realisation hit Arthur hard as any and all potential plans for the future became suddenly out of reach. He was depressed, confused, angry, but most of all, stunned. He was so overwhelmed from the revelation that he didn’t know how to handle it.

“I’m dead,” Arthur said, still not quite believing it. He knelt by the corpse. It was weird seeing himself like this, lifeless and unmoving. It made him realise how insignificant his existence was in the scheme of things, while also emphasising how precious life was at the same time.

Merlin nodded, tears streaming down his face. “I killed you.”

For a moment, Arthur believed it. If Merlin hadn’t restrained him on the stairs, Arthur never would have fallen. Or if Merlin had been truthful from the beginning, Arthur wouldn’t have felt the need to leave in the first place. For a few tense seconds, anger was the primary emotion and he trembled with rage.

He couldn’t even look at Merlin, he was so upset. His life, his future—all taken away from him in the blink of an eye! Arthur balled his hands into fists and focused on calming his breathing. It was only when he became dimly aware of Merlin muttering to himself that he paused to listen.

“—so sorry, I never meant for this to happen, I tried to call for help, I did, but there was so much blood—”

“Merlin,” Arthur snapped, turning his head to look over his shoulder.

Merlin instantly ceased talking and stared at Arthur with wide, vulnerable eyes. He stood with his arms around his chest, biting his lip in worry.

Arthur took a step closer, eyeing Merlin up and down. Maybe Merlin _had_ killed him, but he hadn’t meant to. Merlin didn’t have a single sinister bone in his body; the only reason he’d acted violently when Arthur tried to leave was because he didn’t want to be left alone again. And it was true that Arthur no longer felt the desire to leave. Whether that was a result of dying, or the magnetic pull of Merlin, Arthur didn’t know.

Arthur was confused about a lot of things—what his death meant for his family, the house, the future—but he was certain of one thing: getting angry and accusing Merlin wouldn’t bring him back to life. It wouldn’t change anything. And if he was going to be trapped in a house with Merlin, it would only make the situation unbearable if one of them held a grudge.

Besides, he had what he wanted now, didn’t he? He could be with Merlin forever.

“I’m upset that you lied to me,” Arthur said finally. “You should have told me right away. But being angry isn’t going to change anything now. I mean I’d still be _dead_.”

Merlin looked forlornly at Arthur’s dead body. Arthur wondered what it must have been like when Merlin saw his own corpse in the bathtub.

“Poor Morgana is going to be beside herself,” he continued. “Can I call her?”

Merlin frowned and shook his head. “She’ll just hear static. We’ll have to get Will to call for us.”

“I thought we couldn't leave the house.”

“We can’t. But when _he_ hears static, he’ll know it’s me trying to reach him. He’ll come over right away.”

Arthur nodded. “Alright.”

Merlin hesitantly thread his fingers through Arthur’s, unsure of his welcome until Arthur gave him a little squeeze, and looked at Arthur with wide, glistening eyes. “I am sorry for lying to you, though. I guess wanting to buy some time to figure out how to tell you isn’t exactly a good excuse.”

Arthur felt another quick flare of anger, but as the initial shock was starting to fade, it was soon replaced by the desire to simply sit down and have Merlin comfort him. He was dead, after all. He deserved a few moments to grieve.

“And I guess I forgive you,” he said. “I imagine it’d be difficult to hold a grudge for the rest of eternity. Although I wouldn’t have to hold a grudge if _someone_ hadn’t killed me.”

Merlin gaped at him, horrified.

Arthur pat Merlin’s shoulder gently. “Only kidding. Come on, let’s go call Will.”

***

“Hey Merlin.” Will entered, plopped on the sofa, and put his feet up on the coffee table. “What’s up?”

Arthur’s jaw dropped at the behaviour. Will was filthy and was ruining the furniture. He swatted Will’s dirty feet off the table.

“Oi! You never minded when I put my feet up before!” Will protested.

Before Arthur could speak, Merlin cut him off. “That wasn’t me. Look, Will, there’s been a…a situation.”

“Yeah? Your mouth-breathing boyfriend asked me about you yesterday. Gaius told him your secret,” Will replied.

Arthur blinked. Why were they talking like he wasn’t even in the room?

“That’s sort of the problem,” Merlin went on. “Arthur’s dead, too. He, er, fell down the stairs.”

Will, for his part, took the news better than Arthur had expected. In fact, he raised a brow and said, “Fell? Are you sure you didn’t push him because you didn’t want him to escape so easily?”

“Will!”

“What?”

“I wouldn’t—You don’t really think I could—”

“Nah, was only joking,” Will waved it away. “So is he here? Or did he get the easy way out?”

“He’s here. He’s standing right next to me.”

“Why doesn’t he show himself?”

Arthur opened his mouth, but Merlin cut him off again. “He doesn’t know how to appear to people yet.”

Finally fed up with the whole thing, Arthur prodded Merlin in the side. “What the hell?”

Merlin turned to look at him. “Um, yeah. You’re sort of invisible right now. To the living anyways. I’ll explain later.” He turned back to Will. “We need you to call his sister and tell her. “

Will snorted. “You want me to call up some bird and tell her her brother died falling down the stairs? Are you mental?”

“Will, please.”

“No way.”

“She’s hot.”

“Done.”

Merlin nodded, satisfied, while Arthur’s jaw dropped for the second time in a few minutes. “What the hell just happened?”

Merlin ignored him, instead addressing Will. “Make sure she comes right away—”

“Oh, I will.”

“—so we can explain. If all goes well, we’ll have this house to ourselves at least for the next fifty or sixty years.”

Arthur stepped in front of Merlin and waved in his face. “Hey, hello. What exactly is your plan?”

Merlin sighed. “You bought the house in full, right?”

“What?” Will said.

Merlin peered over Arthur’s shoulder. “Sorry, talking to Arthur. Hold on a minute.” He returned his attention forward. “So when Morgana gets here, we’ll write up a will and you can leave the house to her. That way, unless she puts the house up for sale—”

“Nobody will move in and invade our space. Like I did to you.”

“Exactly. And I would love it if she continued to pay bills every month because it gets _so_ boring here without telly, not to mention I hate the dark—”

“You want my sister to pay to support a ghost couple for the rest of her life?”

Merlin looked flustered. “No! I mean, it’d be great if she did, but obviously that’s asking too much, especially considering the emotional trauma—”

“It’s not like she doesn’t have the resources,” Arthur remarked, amused. If Merlin could teach him in time, Arthur looked forward to spooking the hell out of Morgana when she got here.

“Wait, seriously? I was half joking.”

Will, being able to pick up on Merlin’s segment of conversation, piped up. “Oh man, you’re going to have a regular ghost paradise over here, aren’t you? If it wasn’t so bloody cold all the time, I’d ask if I could come stay.”

“So…” Arthur began. “Sixty years. Basically, when my sister dies, there’s nothing to stop somebody else from coming and buying our house.”

“That’s assuming we also somehow keep it from falling apart, or that the city won’t randomly decide to build something else here. I’m not sure _where_ our souls will go once the house is gone.”

“Isn’t that a cheerful thought?” Will muttered.

Arthur didn’t like wondering what the future held for them. It was too uncertain. They were together in the semi-afterlife now, but what if they were parted?

Seeing Arthur’s concern, Merlin reached for his hand. “That’s years in the future. Let’s just take care of the present for now, yeah?”

Arthur sighed and nodded. “Okay.” He turned to face Will, but spoke to Merlin. “Let’s call Morgana.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus content in the form of a [fanmix at the livejournal entry](http://neuroticnick.livejournal.com/50487.html#cutid1).


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